


Twelve Miles from the Border

by alphvjensen



Series: wheels and asphalt!verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Car Racing, Anal Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 10:26:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 72,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10187690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphvjensen/pseuds/alphvjensen
Summary: Ask anyone in town who Dean Winchester is and they'll tell you that he’s the boy with leashed anger. He’s an enigma wrapped in an enigma wrapped in street racing, cheap whiskey and stale cigarettes. He’s got bruised skin and bloody knuckles, breathy whispers of dreams that would never be fulfilled and swollen lips. He’s a feral beast caged within that small town with a weakness for the only thing that he loved that could kill him. That thing was Sam Wesson.If you were to ask the boy with the shaggy hair wearing khaki slacks and an oversized hoodie draping his bony limbs, being the abnormal in the town of normal, he would say that Dean Winchester was nothing more than a boy who was too stuck to move, believing that his destiny was written, not made.It’s the story of darkened streets coated with burnt rubber. It’s the story of two boys who were so opposite of the norm, one the town outcast barely making ends meet and the other too smart for his own good. It’s the story of a taboo love and growing up too quick and falling just a little too far. It’s the story of pain and agony, of devotion and sacrifices. It’s the story of what you’re willing to give up just to keep your head above water.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [ForTheLoveOfChuck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForTheLoveOfChuck/gifts).



> So this thing is ten months in the making. Ten months of sitting around and staring at a blank screen wondering just what the hell I was going to write. This was not my first idea for this project. Not even the second. In fact, it wasn't until well into the challenge that I came up with this story and it was one that I had to share with the world
> 
> First off, I want to send out a huge thanks to ForTheLoveOfChuck (letstalkaboutwincest on tumblr) for being my wonderful beta. Without you this thing would be ridden with typos and who knows what else. You were there sharing my excitement when I finished the thing and when I changed the ending about a hundred times. You were there when the fic earned it's name (because if it weren't for you then it might still be called untitled). You dealt with my uncertainty with my own writing and helped me through those times when I felt like calling it quits. So I, from the bottom of my cold, dark heart, thank you for that.
> 
> And then I also need to send out a huge thanks to hideyourdemoneyes (justanothersaltandburn on tumblr) for helping me through all the historical precedents that this fic had to deal with because that's one thing that I hate doing. Research. And not only that, you were a great person to bounce ideas off of when I needed someone to bounce ideas off of. And if I remember correctly, I think that I talked to you about this fic along with a couple others early on in the process when I was trying to figure out what to write and ultimately we chose this one and I'm glad that we did.
> 
> Both of y'all helped me immensely through this whole project and I am almost certain if it weren't for y'all it wouldn't have been completed. Not to mention the overwhelming support that I received on tumblr from my followers. Y'all don't know how motivating this is and well, this is the product of that motivation.
> 
> Imma shut up now so y'all can get to the fic but I truly hope you fall in love with it as much as I did writing it.

The smell of fuel exhaust and sweat and underneath all of that the metallic smell of blood lingered in the air. The small circle of cars illuminated the road, their respective owner standing out front with an arm wrapped around the waist of whatever girl they were dating for the month.

The night would rumble with the sound of the car engines, the drivers gunning the throttle as they shot down the darkened road but it was all covered up by the sound of thunder that was off in the distance, slowly creeping its way closer to town.

In a couple of hours, the road would be empty, cleared out. A couple of crushed beer cans and stamped out cigarettes buds being the only evidence that anyone was here. The only evidence of the illegal activity that was taking place under the cover of the storm.

He never raced first. Always last. The big lead up to the grand finale despite the fact that everyone knew the end result. There was a reason why he was the king of the streets, why people respected him on the asphalt and in the school halls.

He took another long drag from his cigarette, the smoke filling the air around him as he watched yet again as some racer thought that they could come out here to his road and try to beat his boys in a race that he practically owned. It was sad, really, that people still didn’t realize their place. Their place was on the sidelines drinking some bootleg beer, cheering on with the rest of the crowd as he and his boys did what they did best.

Win.

The faint lights from the small town loomed in the distance, reminding everyone out there about what laid off in the distance, the reality of the world. That tomorrow they would all have to wake up and get ready for school, sit through their teachers class as they lectured about logarithms and whatever happened the night before in the outskirts of town wouldn’t matter anymore.

It would just be a couple of moments playing on a grainy polaroid film as they waited until they could get back out there and add a few more minutes to the movie.

But all that would happen later. When the rain came, it would wash away everything but right now, it was nothing more than watching the sleek lines of the cars as they raced down the road and being completely carefree, away from the hand of the law.

He welcomed anybody on his road as long as they paid. If they wanted to race and lose their money, well Dean was all the more willing to let them burn their gas and take their money.

There weren’t many people that showed up new to race. Everyone around town pretty much knew their place. They would stay off the road or decide to race one of Dean’s lesser boys but every once in awhile, some car would roll up with some young new racer behind the wheel with the hopes that they might be able to turn the tides. Show the crowd that there could be more than one king of the road.

Frankly he was itching to race. He was tired of sitting on the hood of his car, watching the crowd and cheering on his boys. There was never a time that he felt more alive than when he was driving, feeling the blood pumping through his veins, thudding past his ears, the sound of his engine drowning out the sound of the cheers from everyone behind him. But tonight there wasn’t anyone that he saw that he thought was worthy enough to race.

The win against his boys wasn’t as fun as it used to be. He didn’t get the same high that he used to get. They didn’t let him win but they weren’t making it hard on him to win either. Most nights it felt like he was racing against himself, trying to beat his own damn time. That was fine and all but it got very boring, very quickly. He wanted the rush that he would feel when he crossed the finish line, the person he was racing, seconds behind coming to a stop beside him.

“You gonna race tonight?” Dean looked over at Benny who pulled him from his own self-pity at being the best. It really was lonely at the top.

Besides him, Benny was the only other person in this town who could actually drive worth a shit in this town and sighed. He took another long drag of his cigarette and shrugged.

“I don’t know, man. There’s not anybody here who’s actually worth getting it up for. People just don’t know what it means to race anymore.” He scanned the crowd again, taking in the scene of leather and short skirts and fog from the fuel exhaust. It was the same scene that he saw every night. The same chapter of the same book.

Then his eyes landed on an unfamiliar sight. An unfamiliar and alluring sight.

The boy looked young, despite the fact that he was taller than nearly everyone here. Dean could see that even from where he was sitting. The thin denim jacket that he was wearing looked as if it barely contained the chill of the air seeping in his bones and Dean knew that the collared shirt that he was wearing underneath was doing nothing too. He cocked his head to the side, taking in the boy.

He wasn’t from around here. Even if Dean had seen him from somewhere else, he could tell that the boy wasn’t from here. Everything from the way that he held himself to his damn haircut screamed that.

“Who’s that?” He asked, nodding his head toward the newcomer who was leaning against the grill of some car that he had seen somewhere, watching the crowd just like Dean was watching him.

He looked so out of place, almost preppy with his khaki pants and calculated eyes.

“Don’t know exactly.” Benny replied. “He came in with Gordon. From what I’ve picked up, he’s apparently gonna be living here for the rest of the year. Something about his mom dying upstate and now he has to live with his grandmother. He doesn’t talk much though.”

Dean pushed off his car, dropping his cigarette and stamping it out underneath the toe of his shoe before making his way toward the boy, Benny close behind him

The boy might not say much but he wasn’t oblivious to what was happening around him. The moment that he noticed that there were two boys approaching him, he straightened immediately, pulling himself to his full height, trying to make himself seem bigger than he actually was against the black backdrop of the car he was standing next too. Something close to the puffer fish effect but the moment that Dean pulled out a needle, the kid would deflate faster than a balloon that’s been popped.

Just as Dean had predicted, the second that Dean stepped closer to him, the kid all but folded in on himself, trying to make himself disappear as he dropped his gaze to the ground. He learned quick, Dean noted. Knew who was at the top of the food chain. He had to keep from smirking.

“You smoke?” Dean asked as he settled down beside the boy on the bumper of the car and kid shot a scared glance over at Benny who wasn’t even trying to hide his amused smile at his discomfort. He looked back at Dean, his eyes wide as he looked down at the cigarette that Dean was offering to him in an outstretched hand and he didn’t say anything. Yeah, Dean wasn’t going to lie. The kid was cute, in an innocent, ‘I don’t know what I got myself into’ kind of way. “No? Alright. Fine by me.”

He dug his bic lighter out of his jacket pocket and lit the cigarette, looking ahead in front of him, watching as yet again one of his boys beat the lame ass of some preppy college student who thought that they were big.

“Those are gonna rot your teeth out!” The kid blurted out abruptly and it’s Benny that beat him to laughing and Dean shot him a very pointed look, noticing how the kid seemed to shrink even more next to him.

Way to make the kid feel comfortable.

Dean chuckled, it sounding a lot less accusatory than Benny’s, almost like Dean was remembering an old joke. It sounded soft and warm. “Yeah. Well, that’s what my old man says but the bastard has smoked everyday for the past thirty years and he still has all of his teeth. Don’t believe everything that you hear on the TV, kid.” Dean nudged him lightly in the arm and the kid forced a small smile on his face. “You know, you don’t have to be so scared. I don’t bite...unless you want me too.”

The kid looked over at Benny and then back to Dean. A couple minutes had passed already and nothing bad happened yet. Yeah, the kid was scared but Dean didn’t think that they were that intimidating.

I mean, sure, Dean had broken the fingers of a couple of scumbags who thought that they could cheat him out of his dues in the past but the kid hadn’t done anything and as far as he knew, just watching the races were free.

“I’m...I’m Sam.” The kid finally answered, sticking out his hand in a formal greeting.

Benny started to laugh again and this time when Dean shot him a look, Benny finally took the queue to shut the hell up and just turn invisible. He was doing nothing but making the kid more nervous than he had to be.

Both Dean and the boy watched as Benny turned around and walked to some girl that was wearing this tight little jean skirt (that if Dean wasn’t already so interested in the boy, he would totally try to get well acquainted with her), leaving the pair alone.

“I’m Dean.” Dean replied after a moment, pulling Sam’s attention back to him.

Sam’s eyes widen for a split second before he turned his head and searched the crowd, his body tensing as if he saw who he was looking for he was going to tuck tail and run from Dean. But whoever he was looking for, he didn’t find but Sam didn’t relax. He was still tense.

“Told ya, kid, I don’t bite. You don’t have to be so nervous.”

Sam looked back at Dean. “Yeah, it’s just… never mind.” He trailed off.

They stood there, leaning up against the bummer in an uncomfortable silence, watching as another pair of cars took off down the road, the red glow of brake lights racing along each other.

“You ever seen a real race before?” Dean asked, breaking the silence. He hated the silence. It always seemed to make his skin crawl. He needed sound; he needed conversation. That’s where he felt safe, in the midst of all the noise.

Sam looked over at him confused, his brow furrowed. “I thought that’s what I was watching.”

Dean scoffed. “Hell no. Those guys, they only wish that they could be a real racer.” Dean pushed off the grill of the car. “Tell you what, watch me and I’ll show you what a real race is.”

Sam nodded like it was the only thing he knew how to do.

He pulled Benny away from the girl he was talking too, tossing her a wink before telling Benny to gear up. It turned out that he was going to race that night. Benny shot a look over his shoulder toward Sam who was looking at the pair, his eyes shining bright with interest and looked back at Dean with a smile on his face.

“You’re wanting to race to impress him?” Benny laughed, teasing Dean in every way he knew.

“Shut up. Just get in your car.” 

The energy was always different when people knew that Dean was going to race. Everyone, no matter who you were or who you thought you were, respected him. Respected what he had done, what he had achieved out there on the road. They paid attention to him because they knew that they were watching someone who had made history and someone who was about to make history again. It didn’t matter who he was racing.

There was an eerie silence that seemed to have fallen over the crowd of people. They all watched as Dean climbed into his car, getting comfortable behind the wheel before closing his door and then there was nothing else.

It was only him and the leather seats and the open road in front of him.

He stared ahead, waiting. He could hear his heartbeat in his chest. If he looked out the rearview mirror, he would be able to see the boy in his khaki pants and shaggy brown hair, watching the taillights of his car, eyes wide in wonderment.

The girl that signaled the race came up between the two cars, blowing a kiss to both him and Benny in good luck before taking her spot ahead of them, right in the middle. She was holding the checkered flags and Dean held onto the wheel tighter.

Seconds. It was mere seconds before the race would begin and everything else would be gone.

It was a flash of movement, just the barest glimpse of the checkered flag waving through the darkness and he lurched forward, his foot pressing down on the pedal as far as it would go and he drove off into the night.

He learned it some time ago that it only takes a car going a hundred and twenty miles per hour to make him really feel alive. It wakes him up from this sleep that it feels like he’s constantly in. There’s nothing but him and the road and the car on the road next to him.

There’s only two things certain in streetcar racing and that’s life and death.

Going this fast down an unlit road is nothing but dangerous. All it takes is a single twitch of his wrist and his car could spin out of control, flipping along the asphalt, his body trapped inside the metal cage that gives him life.

But that’s what he craves. It’s what he needs.

For those few seconds that he’s behind the wheel, the gas pedal pressed all the way down to the floorboard, he’s untethered. He’s free. He’s flying at a speed that would surely kill him.

It makes him forget everything. He forgets about the garage and his father who’s at home probably passed out from drinking another bottle. He forgets about the bills that keep piling up and how in the world is he going to pay for all of them.

He readjusts his grip, his knuckles white against the black steering wheel. Benny is not going easy on him today and he’s grateful for that. He needs the distraction of the road and winning.

Dean doesn’t like thinking.

He could still remember back when he was still in school when teachers would ask him to analyze a certain passage from the book they were supposed to read. They would ask him why the author wrote that passage or why they wrote the book. What does this mean? How does it contribute to the overall theme of the novel? They made him think. They made him analyze every little word. They made him work and they pushed him into thinking so much that he just stopped.

Even worse than analyzing what he read, he hates thinking about why things are the way they are. He doesn’t like to think about what could have been if his life was different. If he had both parents as opposed to one. He doesn’t like to think about the things that could have happened if he had stayed in school. He doesn’t like to think about the things that he can’t control.

However, when you give him something that he can control, things tend to change.

When you give him a fast car, a car that’s as dark at the night and as fast as light, things change. He’s literally controlling life in his hands. It’s completely up to him whether or not he continues to fight it out. It’s all up to him as to where he goes, how fast he goes, how crazy he drives. He likes it. Dean thrives for him. The danger makes his heart race in a way that he has yet to find a replacement for. The tension builds in the pit of his stomach and it isn’t until that the car comes to a stop and the world stops spinning and everything comes back into existence, when he finds that his fingers are shaking.

It’s not the way that he should cope. It’s fucked up and illegal and he’s got a lot more at stake than just his life here but it’s his way of dealing with things. At night, when he’s back at home in his bed, his fingers still stinging from the adrenaline, he’ll realize how much it truly terrifies him how much he craves this. How much he needs this.

The lights from the small town keep growing closer and closer and the old ‘67 Mustang that Benny drives keep trailing behind him. He doesn’t relax. His fingers tighten around the wheel. Just a little bit further. Once he crosses the town line, he won. The gas gauge on his dashboard his dipping closer to the red; he’s nearly running on empty and he doesn’t know if he’s going to make it there or not. He forgot to fill up but he has faith in his car.

She’ll take him there.

She’ll give him the relief that he needed.

The small green sign, reading off the town is nothing but a blur of color as he drove past it; his foot switched pedals and slammed down onto the break. He could smell burning rubber as the wheels squealed to a stop. And then there was nothing.

Everything rushes back to him all too fast, all too soon. Color and sounds and the awareness that he wasn’t moving rushed over him. He was still holding onto the steering wheel, his head hanging between his shoulders when he heard Benny calling him name from outside the car.

Letting go of the wheel is nearly painful. He wanted to do nothing more than speed down that road until he ran out of gas or crashed because he couldn’t see past the blood rushing behind his eyes. But he climbed out and Benny slapped him on the back, screaming out something that Dean couldn’t make out.

Slowly the crowd started to swarm around him. They were all saying something, the sounds spilling out of their mouth sounded like his name but he wasn’t sure. He never was after the race.

His senses were always gone once he climbed out of the car, his body high from the adrenaline.

“Dean!” An excited scream pulled him from his trance and he found Sam almost immediately. His face was pulled into a huge smile, his eyes brighter than the headlights that were boring down on them. “That was crazy!”

Sam looked as if he could barely contain his excitement.

Dean returned the smile because how could he not. Seeing Sam like this made him want to smile. It was almost as good as being behind the wheel.

“You were going so fast! How were you not scared? God, I would have been terrified. I would have been so scared that I was going to flip or…”

“I thought you didn’t talk much, kid.” Dean cut him off and Sam snapped his mouth shut, looking down to the ground, red creeping up along the top of his ears. Dean wrapped an arm around his bony shoulders and pulled him away from the crowd.

That was another thing that Dean wasn’t good with. Crowds. Large gatherings of people. They suffocated him, trapped him to the point that he felt like they were sucking all of the oxygen out of his lungs.

Dean was about to say something, answer one of the questions that Sam asked, maybe say something to have the kid blushing a little more. Maybe describe how it feels to be behind the wheel when someone calls out Sam’s name. Sam tensed for a second before ducking underneath Dean’s arm, putting more distance between the two of them.

“Sam! What did I tell you about hanging out with him?” Dean could hear the venom that was in his voice. He didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was calling Sam’s name.

“He wasn’t doing anything, Gordon. He’s actually quite nice.” Sam whined, sounding so much like a small child.

Gordon shot Dean look, which Dean returned. He had to keep himself from growling in annoyance as Gordon grabbing hold of Sam’s shoulder and started to steer him away. Sam struggled briefly for a second; turning to look at Dean before he gave up and willingly went along with Gordon.

“I told you, Sam, what he’s after and you’re not going to give it to him. Now go get in the car. It was a bad idea to bring you out here anyway.”

“But Gordon…”

“Just go get in the car, Sam!” Gordon snapped and Sam ducked his head.

“Hey kid,” Dean called out, causing Sam to stop and turn back towards him. He ignores the daggers that were sent his way. “Tomorrow night there’s a party out at the old farm house. Anybody who’s anybody is going to be there. It’s just slightly more legal than showing up at an illegal car race. Better see you there.” Sam smiled and nodded once before he turned back around and headed off towards the car.

Dean took a small step back, ready to turn around and celebrate just a little bit with Benny before he went home with the girl he was chatting up before he raced when Gordon grabbed his shoulder.

“He’s a kid, Dean. He’s doesn’t have anything to do with you. Stay away from him.” Gordon growled, leaning in close.

Dean looked down at the hand on his shoulder and shoved Gordon away. “Man, get off me. I wasn’t doing anything. Just trying to get to know the kid.”

“Yeah, well don’t. He’s my responsibility and I won’t have you messing him up.”

Dean scoffed, not finding any reason why he needed to explain himself further to Gordon. Benny was standing by his car, leaning up against it with his arms crossed against his chest, waiting for Dean to return.

He didn’t say much to Benny, not wanting to have a conversation with anybody at this point. He stuck around the race for just a little longer on principle alone. It wouldn’t be right if he won the race and then ran home. But his mood had taken a turn for the worse. Sam and Gordon had already left, Dean had scanned the crowd several times to see if he could spot the car that Sam was originally standing by but he wasn’t able to find it if they were still there. However Dean doubted that they were. Gordon made it real fucking clear that he didn’t want to keep Sam there any longer.

He wasn’t really sure why but that thought, that Gordon thought that Dean was going to fuck up Sam’s future just by talking to him, made Dean feel uneasy. Sure, he might have done some pretty shady things in the past; some of them would have landed him behind bars. It wasn’t a secret but people in this town seemed to crave that. They wanted to be around him because maybe they thought that they would finally have some adventure in their life. Dean wasn’t the Sunday morning, church going fellow like everyone else. He was the abnormal in the town of normal and as much as people didn’t want to admit it, they wanted to be abnormal, at least for just a little bit.

Benny found the girl that he was talking to before they decided to race and she quickly found interest in Dean. Something about those green eyes and leather jackets seemed to draw girls in like a dog to meat. She made it real clear that she wanted to go home with him. She kept getting closer and closer to Dean, ignoring the fact that Dean would take a step back anytime she got closer than a normal distance and when he couldn’t take it anymore. When he felt like he was just going to snap, told her to go bother some other guy. He wasn’t interested.

She sulked off; her red painted lips turned downward as she went back to her small group of friends and tried not to cry. At some point, maybe tomorrow, maybe a week from now, Dean would feel guilty for snapping at the girl like that. She didn’t deserve it but at the moment he didn’t care. He was happy for the ability to breathe air that didn’t smell so strongly of the perfume that she had bought on sale at Forever 21.

He called it a night sooner than anyone else. His limbs were no longer shaking when he got back behind the wheel, the needle on the speedometer barely reaching fifty as he drove away from the circle of cars and the other way of life and back towards the town that he grew up in and the town that he was going to die in.

He barely made it to the gas station; his knuckles were white for an entirely different reason now. The last thing that he wanted to do was call his father, saying that he had once again ran out of gas and that he needed a ride. However he made it, pulling up next to the pump with a relieved sigh. He filled her up with forty dollars worth of gas. A portion of the money that he got that night. It barely got him half a tank but the rest of the money was going to go towards paying some bills.

His dad was passed out in his armchair with a bottle still hanging loosely from his fingers. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing and dropping the keys down on the end table before shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it up on the hook.

He turned his attention back to his father and considered leaving him there, letting him sleep off his hangover in the oversized chair but he decided against it, not wanting to deal with him yelling at him in the morning, complaining about the fact that his son cared so little about his father to just leave him there like that.

Dean walked over to him, bending down a little bit and tapped John on the face, trying to make him stir a little bit so he wasn’t lifting dead weight.

“Come on, Dad, let’s get you to bed. It’ll be more comfortable.” Dean muttered, draping John’s arm over his shoulder.

John mumbled something intelligible as Dean pulled him up from his chair but he was awake just enough that Dean was carrying all of his weight across the house and into his room.

“Yeah, that’s right, Dad. We’re almost there.”

Dean laid John down on the bed and John’s light snores filled the room nearly the second that his head touched the pillow. Dean unlaced his father’s work boots, taking off his socks and placing them both at the edge of his bed. He worked John up underneath the blankets making sure that he was comfortable. Before taking a hot shower himself, he grabbed a couple of pills and a glass of water and put in on his bedside table. He stood in the doorway for a second, looking at the passed out form of his father before sighing and shaking his head, wondering what the hell happened to get them to this point.

His father, John, was not a bad man. There was once a point many years ago when they still had that house and there were three people in the house as opposed to two. A father with a loving heart. A mother with blonde hair like a halo. And a little boy with green eyes who still believed in dreams. But somewhere that all got lost and here he was now, looking after his father, barely making rent.

The water was cold when he stepped into the shower. He didn’t have enough to fix up the hot water tank but that was okay. He was going to fix it up with the money that he got that night.

Dean stayed awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling. His body wasn’t trembling in fear anymore, and the angry, worried thoughts started to worm their way back into his brain like they always did. The black hole in his chest is there again, sucking up every possibility of feeling good tonight. He had thought that maybe, if he gave in to the race, he'd feel better, at least until the morning.

He thought that maybe it would be able to chase everything away until he could get up and distract his mind, cover up those thoughts with grease and car oil.

This craving for speed, for danger had become an addiction and he’s become so immune to its effect that he’s already itching for another hit. When he’s not behind the wheel, pressing the pedal down to the floor, he feels like he’s drowning. Everything slowed down and it crushed him.

His father hadn’t woken when Dean woke the next morning. He went into his room and checked on him, checked to see if he was still breathing and wiped the sweat off his brow. Sometime during the night, John had kicked the blankets off his body and they ended up around his feet.

“I’ll see you after work, Dad.”

For breakfast it was a stale piece of toast. There never was much in their cabinets, just whatever Dean could buy marked down at the grocery store and whatever canned goods he could get for cheap.

He could see his breath in the air when he pulled the front door closed behind him. It was starting to cool down. Before long the trees would be bare of their leafs and Dean was going to start worrying about how he was going to be able to afford to keep the heat on. In the summer it was easier. He didn’t have to pay as much. There was a little fan that he had hooked up in the living room and that kept the house relativity cool. Sure, at night he wouldn’t be able to sleep with the blankets but the heat he could deal with. However the cold, the threadbare blankets on his bed did little to keep the cold out.

But that was going to be a problem for another day. Right now all he had to focus on was getting to the garage, working his shift and making it to the bank to deposit the checks, pay the bills and then making it to that party later on that night.

Whenever he thought about it, he was actually looking forward to seeing Sam again and not just because it was going to annoy the fuck out of Gordon. The kid was cute in that shy, innocent kind of way.

Once he got to the garage, he didn’t have much time thinking about paying bills or his father or the party that night or Sam. It was just him and whatever machine he was working on. He could hardly remember the first car he worked on. It was back when he was barely old enough to hold a pencil and everything was still okay.

His father worked at the garage back when he was in high school. It was his summer job and it was only right for Dean to work there when it was his time to work. Dean didn’t think twice about it. About leaning over the hood of a car and putting things back together so that they worked right again.

There was something soothing about that kind of work. There was always a right answer and a wrong answer. Either something worked or it didn’t work. There wasn’t a maybe. There wasn’t a loophole. It helped him clear his mind.

He normally didn’t talk much when he was at the garage. He would talk to the customers, find out what was wrong with their vehicle, say something kind and endearing and then he would get to work, coating his hands in grease and oil, staining whatever shirt he was wearing. His boss didn’t mind it too much. An employee who takes too much is an employee who loses money.

Even though he didn’t speak much, there honestly wasn’t enough time to truly think about things and so he worked.

He would show up in the morning, always before everyone else and stay later than he had too and then sometimes he would return home, find his father passed out in his chair yet again and help him back to bed. Or sometimes, when there was a storm, he would go drive out to the outskirts of town, collect the money that he was owed from racing and smell the fuel exhaust that would cling to him and everyone else there.

People didn’t know much about him other than the fact that he was a hard worker who held himself to a much higher standard than almost anyone and that he never wanted to cause trouble.

He didn’t ask for much, just grateful for the work. There weren’t many places that would take a high school dropout like him but there was no denying, despite the fact that his academic education lacked, he was good with his hands and knew more about cars than he would ever know about history or math.

The day seemed to move by fast, faster than what Dean was used too. They were booked all throughout the day with people coming in for oil changes and a brake check. There was even a call that he had received sometime around noon from someone who needed a tow because they had run out of gas. It was honestly good work that kept Dean busy, kept his mind from going back to the race and the boy that he was going to met in a few hours if he actually showed up at the party.

When he actually got a second to think about it, he didn’t like the way that his stomach flopped at the thought that he might go to the party and not see Sam anywhere. That was usually when he would bury himself elbows deep into some engine of some car.

There were places on his face that were smeared with oil and grease from where he had run the back of his hand across his forehead to wipe away the sweat and he wiped it away with an old rag that he had in his back pocket.

When the last car was either safely locked up in the garage or picked up by their respective owner and Dean swept the floor of the little waiting room that they had, he grabbed his shirt by the collar that had been soaked with sweat from the day and pulled it off his body, changing into a cleaner one that he had stuffed in the backseat of his own car.

He made one last sweep of the place, making sure that everything was where it was supposed to be and that everything was properly locked up before he finally shut the door to the place and got into his car and drove towards the old farmhouse.

The place wasn’t exactly a secret or at least not as much of a secret that people, teenagers, wished it could be. For generations the place has been used for parties and it was notorious for first. First drink. First kiss. First what-have-you. Everyone in town knew where it was. It was an old house that had long ago been abandoned but was still well kept because of the fact that nearly every weekend there was some party of some sort going on within those walls.

Back when Dean was still in school, when all he had to worry about was grades and getting into a good college, the farmhouse was the place to be. Anybody who was anybody was there and even if you weren’t anybody, you were there. It was a place that for just a couple of hours that you could relax and not let the weight of the world weigh you down. Even at the mere age of twenty-one, Dean still went there sometimes to see his buddies who were still in school and were too busy to stop in and say hi to him at the garage.

He could hear the music pouring out of the front door and the windows. The sun had just set behind the horizon and the party was already in full swing. He took a deep breath, trying to steel his nerves. He never did well in places that were jammed packed with people. He hated that feeling of being trapped and not able to escape if he needed too and while he knew that there was no one in there that wanted to hurt him, he never liked the thought of being trapped inside a sea of people.

But Dean Winchester was always good at faking it. He was good at faking that he was having a good time and that he wasn’t bothered by the fact that he was surrounded by people all on sides. He could plaster on that smirk and everything was going to be fine.

There were bodies pressed up against bodies everywhere. It was still pretty early in the evening, relatively speaking but Dean could smell the alcohol that clung to the air the moment that he stepped through the door. There were couples already making out with each other in whatever corner they could find.

He recognized the faces of old classmates and they smiled at him for the briefest moment before continuing their conversation.

He made his way to the kitchen, knowing that it was going to be just as packed as it was in the living room but there was alcohol in there and he desperately needed something in his system to take the edge off. His skin was already starting to crawl at the heat and the sounds and the proximity of everyone.

Dean leaned up against the counter, a red solo cup in his hand and surveyed the sea of people before his eyes landed on Benny who was already whispering in the ear this cute little redhead saying things that were making her blush. Benny caught Dean’s eye and squeezed the girl's hip once, saying something that caused her to giggle and then he left her, making his way towards Dean.

Dean already had a drink in his hand ready for Benny to take.

“Thought you weren’t gonna show up, chief.” Benny said as he took his spot next to Dean leaning against the island watching the crowd just as Dean was doing.

“Yeah, well what can I say? I wasn’t gonna pass up free booze.” Dean replied trying to sound nonchalant and not make it so obvious that he was looking for one person in particular.

Benny narrowed his eyes at Dean before he started laughing. Dean tore his attention away from the crowd and to Benny. “What?”

“You’re looking for the kid, aren’t you?” Even though he posed it as a question, they both knew that Benny wasn’t asking.

“What kid?” 

Benny scoffed as opposed to playing into Dean’s defiance. “You know, he’s probably not going to show up. From what I hear, Gordon’s got the kid on a short leash. Gordon isn’t going to let him show up, at least not alone. And if he comes with the kid, he’s not gonna let you talk to him.”

“Yeah well, I’m more optimistic than you. He’s gonna show up.”

And Dean believed that… until Sam didn’t show up. He found himself a spot near the back of the living room, close to the kitchen and the alcohol but placed to where he could see anyone who walked in through the door. However as the night continued to grow older, the less faith that he had that Sam was going to actually show up. Fewer people filtered in through the door until there was hardly anyone coming in.

By the time that he had abandoned his spot, he finally came to the realization that Benny was once again right and that Sam wasn’t able to escape from Gordon.

He eventually let himself get lost in the music. He had enough alcohol in his system to numb his senses and his urge to flee from the unruly crowd. He found some girl to dance with. She kept her body close to Dean’s, her arms up around his neck, her breath fanning out across his face and after several seconds of just listening to the music and feeling her move up against him, he placed his hands on her hips, starting to move along with her.

She looked up at him, her lips pulling into a smile. Dean was well aware of the game that she was trying to play. He was aware the feelings that she had for him. It was probably the same for every person there. Dean was well known around town to ruin all expectations for everyone in bed. And honestly, if this was any other night, he would have been more than happy to lead her into a corner and stick his tongue down her throat and his hand up her skirt but his heart wasn’t into it.

Sure, her grinding up against him was making his dick do an interesting twitch in his jeans but he wasn’t looking to get laid tonight.

The girl was saying something in his ear but Dean wasn’t listening, not that he could hear her over the sound of the music screaming overhead. He moved along to the music, letting his eyes drift over the crowd and then he just froze. He stopped moving, his body unable to find a beat to move along too.

There, coming out of the small kitchen stood Sam, his eyes scanning the crowd just like Dean had done. He still wearing a pair of khaki pants and another tacky collared shirt, his fingers holding onto a red cup like it was his lifeline.

He looked so small standing there, so out of place and Dean suddenly stepped away from the girl, feeling like he had been caught doing something that he shouldn’t have been doing despite the fact that Sam hadn’t even looked his way yet.

The girl scoffed, pushing Dean hard in the chest that barely made his step backwards before sulking off to some bleach blonde jock that seemed more than happy to sweep her up into his arms.

Dean cleared his throat and straightened his shirt like he was some shy kid before making his way over to the boy.

“You do not need this,” Dean said, coming up beside Sam and taking the cup out of his hands. Sam jumped at the sound of his voice and made a move to grab his drink back but Dean placed a hand in the middle of his chest, keeping him just out of distance of the cup.

“That was mine.” Sam whined, a weak attempt at protesting the fact that Dean was now drinking his drink.

Dean made a face when he took a sip, deciding to place the drink on the mantle instead of drinking the rest or giving it back to Sam.

“Trust me, kid, you don’t want that.” Sam looked up at the glass for a second before finally nodding and ducking his gaze, looking guilty. The kid barely looked like he was out of high school, probably still in it and by the looks of it, Sam obviously never tried to sneak a drink after hours when his parents had gone to bed.

So Dean was doing the kid a favor, keeping his conscience clean. Wouldn’t want the kid worrying about drinking on top of going against Gordon’s clear demand of never seeing Dean again.

See Gordon, I’m watching out for the kid when you’re not. He thought smugly to himself before he wrapped his arm around Sam’s shoulder and pulled him out of the doorway and towards the front door of the house. He wanted out of there. He wanted to be alone somewhere with Sam and get to know more about him. He wanted to be away from the prying eyes of everyone else there.

It didn’t take Sam long to figure out where Dean was leading him and he ducked underneath Dean’s arm, causing Dean to stop.

“Why are we leaving?” Sam asked. “I just got here.”

“Yeah, well, the party is a buzz kill. Booze is hot, the girls aren’t pretty. It’s not much fun.” Dean replied, shrugging his shoulders.

Sam glanced around the room, pausing briefly on the young couples who were dancing with each other, laughing at corny jokes, or making out like they were the only two people in the room before returning his gaze back to Dean.

“I didn’t think that the girls looked that bad.” He said in a small voice. “And...Uhh… I don’t have to drink. I could just have some water or something.”

“If you’re trying to convince me to stay, you’re doing an awful job at it.” Dean chuckled. “Why do you wanna stay so bad? You see a girl that catches your eye? I could introduce you if you would like.” Dean made a quick sweep around the room. There were plenty of girls that he honestly wouldn’t mind going home with.

“What? No!” Sam exclaimed. “There’s not… no… it’s just…” He looked down at the ground, toeing at the corner of the faded carpet that blanketed the floor. “It’s just… I’ve never been to a party before.”

“Never been to a party before?” Dean repeated. “How old are you, kid?”

“I’m seventeen!” Sam said quickly. “Just back home I was never really friends with the kids that went to parties, you know?”

“Let me guess, you stayed with your books and your study groups?”

The blush that fanned out across his face was adorable however Dean would never admit that out loud, even if someone forced him to say it. “Hey, well that’s cool too, Sam. Just take it from someone who’s been to more parties than study groups, this party is not something worth spending any time at.”

Dean turned around and Sam quickly appeared at his side. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” Dean smirked, holding the door open for Sam.

The night air was refreshing. It cooled his skin and it was like he could finally breathe again. Dean led Sam to the car, ducking into the driver's seat and waited for Sam to climb into the car. He closed the door gently, like he was scared of hurting the car and then put on his seatbelt like any other good samaritan.

“Aren’t you going to put on your seatbelt?” Sam asked when Dean had turned over the engine and the car lurched forward.

Dean looked over the passenger seat, smirking at him and then turned back to the road, giving Sam all the answer that he was going to get.

Sam mumbled something to himself before he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, having suddenly fallen completely silent. His leg bobbed up and down in his seat as he kept his eyes on the road ahead of him, his brow pulled together in concentration like he was trying to memorize where he was. Dean wondered, just for a moment, what Gordon had told Sam about him and how much of it was a lie.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean and Gordon didn’t get along. Haven’t for the longest time. There was once a point when they were only kids running around on the playground together and everything was good in the world but that changed when Dean had discovered street racing and Gordon thought that he was going to save Dean’s soul or something like that and ended up screwing up his own life.

The streets were quiet, empty, silent; the only thing that could be heard was the roar of Dean’s engine as he drove to the little diner that was just on the outskirts of town, at the edge of the interstate.

He parked in front of small building that was in desperate need of a face-lift but honestly if the owners ever did decide to update the place, Dean was going to miss the old place. It had a certain character that most places didn’t have. It felt like home to him. His home that was soaked in trans fat.

Dean watched as Sam climbed out of the car slowly, his movements careful. He pulled out a cigarette from the front pocket on his jacket, the little orange flame lighting up his face for a moment as he lit the cigarette. He took a long drag of it, noticing how the neon lights from the diner created shadows that cast down onto Sam that seemed to highlight the contour of his face.

The bell rang overhead as Dean entered the diner with Sam in tow and made a beeline to the back booth, the one he always got when he came here. There was only one other person in the diner, some greasy haired trucker who had dark circles under his eyes. Ellen, the waitress that had been working there for about how long Dean was alive, smiled as she poured the trucker his cup of coffee before setting it back down on the coffee maker and then made her way over to where Dean was sitting.

“I see that you still haven’t kicked the habit.” She greeted Dean, gesturing to the cigarette that was hanging loosely in between his fingers and Dean just shrugged.

“Well, what can I say, the girls dig the whole bad boy vibe.” Dean smirked in reply and Ellen just rolled her eyes.

“Yeah and then they mature and find a responsible man with a well paying job. Anyway, what can I get for you boys?” She asked, pulling out a pad out of the front of her apron, her pen poised over the paper, waiting for the boys to place their order.

“I’ll get my usual,” Dean said, not even looking over at the menu. “And then whatever he’s having.”

All eyes were pointed towards Sam now and he quickly reached out for a menu that was shoved between the ketchup and napkin dispenser. He read over what they had. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before looking up at Ellen’s waiting, patient face.

“I’ll… uhh… I’ll take a chocolate milkshake, I guess.” He finally answered making a move to put the menu back where he got it from but Dean snatched it out of his hands.

“Nope. He doesn’t want that. Make it a vanilla shake with the chocolate syrup all mixed together.” Ellen smiled as she jotted the edited order down like she had heard Dean request the same thing a million times. “And Ellen, be sure to tell Jerry not to skimp on the chocolate syrup. Gotta treat my boy right.”

“You got it, sugar. It’ll be out in a moment.” And with that Ellen turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

When Dean turned his gaze away from the woman in the yellow uniform that he practically considered his mother, he saw that Sam was just staring at him. Staring at him in a way that made Dean nervous.

But instead of questioning Sam’s gaze, he leaned back in his seat, trying to look nonchalant about the whole thing, taking another long drag of his cigarette and then blowing out the smoke, away from Sam. He turned his head to look out the window, at the interstate that was just within reach of him, watching all the headlights grow and disappear, chase after the car in front of it. The streetlights that were placed along the sidewalk barely illuminated the gray cement.

“You know, those are going to rot your teeth out.” Sam said after a long moment of silence and Dean turned to look back at Sam, the corner of his mouth pulling into a smile.

“You might have mentioned that.” However he jammed the rest of his cigarette into the ashtray that was sitting on the table and leaned back in his seat, throwing his arm over the back of the booth. He looked the boy that was sitting in front of him up and down. 

He wasn’t what he was used to seeing around here. Khakis and button downs and that shaggy little hair cut. Most of the people around here wore jeans that had holes in the knees and threadbare t-shirts. He was different. For once, Dean wasn’t the abnormal in the normal. Now Sam was too. “Alright so, Sam, tell me, why here? Out of all the small towns in America, why the hell did you pick this place? What’s your story?”

Sam looked down at the checkered cloth table, picking at the frayed end and shrugged his shoulders. “There isn’t much to tell. My parents died when I was little and ever since then, I’ve been bouncing around from family to family. Gordon’s family just took me in, told me that I could stay with them until I finish high school and then it’s off to college, I guess.”

“Well, shit kid.” Dean breathed. And he thought that he had it bad. He would take his drunk father and broken but stationary home over having been moving around his whole life any day.

“It’s not too bad. I got to see the largest ball of yarn twice.” Sam said, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Dean leaned forward placing his elbows on the table, getting closer to Sam. “Tell you what, I’ll make sure that…”

But Dean wasn’t able to complete his sentence before a plate that was filled with fries and a huge burger was placed down in front of him and a milkshake was placed in front of Sam. You could still see the chocolate syrup sticking to the glass.

“Dean Winchester! What have I told you about laying on my tables?” Ellen exclaimed, hitting Dean on the shoulder, making Dean sit back in his seat like a proper human being. “You come in here smoking those god awful things and now you’re sprawling out on the furniture like you own the damn place. One more strike and I’m sending you out of here, son. You understand me?” Ellen warned as Dean looked up at her with this sheepish grin, sneaking a bite of one of his fries.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean mumbled, reaching out across the table to stick his half eaten fry in Sam’s milkshake and then taking a bite of it. Ellen scoffed, slapping him on the back of his hand.

“And I thought that I taught you to have better table manners than that!” She turned to look towards Sam. “I’ll bring ya another milkshake, honey and if he causes you any trouble, just let me know. I’ll tan his ass ‘til kingdom come.”

Dean couldn’t keep from laughing. Ellen shot him one more look before disappearing back into the kitchen with a disgruntled sigh, muttering about disrespectful boys and where did she go wrong in the world. When she was no longer in sight, Dean reached across the table and grabbed a hold of Sam’s milkshake, pulling it towards him. Sam looked between the drink and Dean with wide eyes, his mouth slightly agape.

“Don’t worry, she’s bringing you another one.” Dean said, shoving another fry into the milkshake and then ate it. “So… what are your plans for the future, Sam?” Dean asked taking a bite of another fry.

Sam watched him for a moment, trying to decide to say something about how improper it was for him to eat with his mouth full and Dean almost wanted Sam to say something but he didn’t. Instead he looked back down at the frayed tablecloth.

“I’ve got one more year left of school and then I plan on going west, maybe go to Stanford. I don’t really know yet.” He mumbled. “What about you?”

“Me?” Dean echoed. “Well, I can tell ya one thing, I sure as hell ain’t going to college. Not that any would take me in the first place.”

“Why?”

“Never heard of one takin’ a high school drop out but it’s all good. I got a job down at the garage and I work part time as a bartender. Maybe if I could make a little more money, I might try out racing professionally, you know, since I’m pretty good at it but who knows. Might just stick to the streets.”

“What about your family?”

“It’s just me and my dad. My mom died when I was young.” Dean replied shortly, breaking his gaze with Sam to look down at his burger and pick it up to take a bite out of it.

“Oh,” Sam said softly, noticing the way that the air around them suddenly grew thick with tension that was created by his question.

Ellen brought another milkshake out and placed it down in front of Sam, the chocolate still stuck to the inside of the glass and warned Dean that if he ate the boys milkshake again that she wouldn’t let him come back inside the diner. He just smirked at her, promising to be on his best behavior for the rest of the night.

They didn’t say much. Dean ate his burger, stuffing his mouth with fries and milkshake between bites and Sam sipped on his own milkshake, looking in the direction of Dean but not really at him.

The easy conversational atmosphere that they previously had was gone.

“You done?” Sam asked when Dean finished his last bite of his burger, watching him as he pushed away his empty plate and the way that he stretched out in the seat.

It was only the two of them there now. The trucker had left a little while ago. The only thing that could be heard was the faint voice of some country singer singing about his woes over the crackly speaker and the light that was above them that buzzed with electricity.

“You already trying to get rid of me?” Dean asked, a teasing lilt to his words. However despite the fact that he was teasing, there was some truth behind that statement that he hoped not the be the truth. He tried to keep his uncertainty out of his voice but failed. The end of his question trailed off with his voice an octave higher than he wanted. The night didn’t go the way that he wanted it too. Sam looked more annoyed with him than entranced and the last thing that Dean wanted was for this to be the last conversation they ever had.

This wasn’t exactly a date. I mean, two guys could go to a diner and have a milkshake as platonic friends, right? But Dean couldn’t help but think that he failed at making it a good date. Sam hadn’t said much after Dean had snapped at him about his family and it was stupid for him to get so defensive about such a small detail of his life. But Dean didn’t tell many people what happened to his mom or the fact that his father wasn’t really around anymore. He hated the looks of pity that he got when people learned the truth.

“I could… uhh… take you home.” Dean offered rubbing the back of his neck as they stepped outside.

Sam looked over towards the Impala that was parked and then back towards Dean before shaking his head. “I don’t have to go home yet.”

“Alright.” Dean said through a small smile.

He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to keep his fingertips warm and started walking away from the car with Sam beside him, his own head bent and his hands pushed into his pants pockets.

They walked in a comfortable sort of silence for some time, just listening to each other’s footfalls on the pavement.

“Was that really the first party that you’ve ever been too?” Dean finally asked after a little while.

Sam nodded. “I never stayed in a place long enough to really to go to parties.”

“Well, trust me, kid, you didn’t miss much.”

Sam nodded again, however Dean could see the way that Sam’s face fell at the mention of the party. There really was no substitute in experiencing a party for yourself and finding out that they aren’t as great as the movies portray them to be.

“I’ll take you to a party before you graduate, if you still want to go.” Dean promised and Sam’s eyes lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.

“Really?”

“‘Course. I’ll take you one, let you drink all the cheap booze there is and then hold your hair back when you puke up your guts. It’ll be great.” Dean joked and Sam nudged him lightly with his shoulder in retaliation to Dean’s unnecessary hair insult. Sam liked his hair longer, thank you very much.

“You ever kissed a boy before?” Dean asked after another few months of silence, watching Sam closely, gauging his reaction to his question.

Sam’s eyes widen as he cast his gaze downward and shook his head.

“You ever kissed a girl before?” Dean pressed, teasing, leaning in closer to Sam.

“Of course I have, jerk!” Sam popped his head up, glaring at Dean through the night, trying to earn back some of his dignity. He sighed heavily before dropping his arms and turning away from Dean.

“Kid.” Dean called out, reaching out to grab a hold of Sam’s shirt but Sam was already too far ahead of him. “Sam. Sam! Dammit,” he muttered under his breath as he ran out in front of Sam, stopping him from walking in a straight line any further. “Sam, I was just kidding, alright? I’m sorry.”

Dean Winchester never apologized and yet here he was, standing in front of this boy that he just met and he couldn’t keep the desperation out of his voice as he apologized.

Sam wasn’t like anyone else he ever met and it wasn’t just because of his clothes or his hair or even the way he talked. It had something to do with the way that Sam looked at him, addressed him. To Sam, Dean wasn’t just some flirt that was able to give you the best lay in your life. To Sam, Dean was a mystery created by Gordon and he wanted to figure out what Dean did that was so bad for Gordon to ban all contact with him. To Sam, Dean was some guy who wore leather jackets and raced his cars and while he had a playboy attitude, yet ever since Sam met him, he was nothing like the stereotype that he had painted for himself.

And to Dean, Sam was the only person who didn’t know every single detail of his life (although he knew that if Sam stuck around much longer he would) and didn’t judge him for all of his mistakes. Dean wanted to keep it like that, keep Sam oblivious to what the whole town thought they knew. Keep Sam oblivious to his past and his father and the fact that he was barely making ends meet.

He was about to say something else when they were both illuminated by the lights of a car speeding towards them. Some guy, probably someone who did even know the name of the town that he was racing through, came towards them. The wheels of his car hit a puddle of run off water that had yet to evaporate from the last storm. 

Dean grabbed Sam by his shoulders, pulling him into his body, shielding him from the spray of water. The icy cold water splashed up over the curb, hitting Dean’s back, soaking him through his clothes. Goosebumps rose on his skin almost immediately at the feeling of the water and his fingers dug into Sam’s shoulders as he shivered.

Sam, though, had remained completely dry, the palms of his hands flat against Dean’s chest to where Dean held them together on the curb.

Dean didn’t let go of Sam, even long after the car had disappeared and the water puddle had stilled.

They were so fucking close. Dean could almost feel Sam’s heart beating through his chest. He glanced down to Sam’s mouth. Sam had pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and Dean’s breathing hitched.

“Dean…” Sam breathed and Dean pulled his eyes back up to meet Sam’s. He pulled away just far enough that he could look at his face. The shadows on his face seemed deeper and his eyes shined brighter than they should have at the end of the poorly lit sidewalk. He reached out and pushed a stray piece of hair that had fallen on Sam’s forehead, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head that this was like a scene right out of a chick flick.

“Hey, just relax.” Dean whispered, his breath fanning out across Sam’s face, hoping that Sam was wanting the same thing that he wanted. Sam shuddered, his fingers tightening around Dean’s jacket, pulling his body closer to Dean’s.

Sam stared up at him, his eyes wide and open in anticipation. Dean backed them up until Sam hit his back on the brick wall, their bodies hidden by the shadows and a surprised yelp left Sam’s mouth.

“You’re gonna be fine, fine kid.” Dean whispered, ducking his head down closer towards Sam. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want too.”

But please god, let him want this.

However Sam nodded. He nodded once that he wanted to and it felt like there was some kind of weight that was lifted off of Dean’s chest. At least there was some kind of mutual feeling between the two of them. All he wanted was this kid’s approval. Dean kissed him, his lips on top of Sam’s. If Sam had relaxed at all, he immediately grabbed Dean’s jacket tighter. His knuckles turning white.

Dean chuckled into the kiss and Sam let go of Dean’s jacket, his hands finding their place on Dean’s hips.

It was awkward as hell at first. Dean didn’t feel as smooth, as confident in what he was doing and it was a bit ridiculous. He had kissed his fair share of girls (and if he was completely honest, his fair share of guys). He knew how to kiss and yet here he felt like he was standing on the kid’s front porch with sweaty palms and butterflies in his stomach. He forgot what butterflies even felt like.

Sam was stiff underneath Dean’s lips, letting Dean kiss him as he tried to follow along. It was hardly enough for Dean. All he wanted to do was press Sam hard up against the wall, his hands finding their way up Sam’s shirt, stealing all the warmth that he had to offer.

Dean broke away for a moment, his lips hovering over Sam’s, giving Sam the opportunity to stop Dean from continuing but Sam stayed where he was, looking at Dean expectant, nervousness in his eyes. “Relax.” Dean repeated. “It’s alright. We’ll go…” But he was cut off when Sam hooked his fingers into the belt loops of Dean’s jeans, pulling their bodies flush up against each other.

Dean could feel the long, hard line of Sam’s body running against his.

Dean made a soft noise, somewhere between a small moan and a surprised yelp when Sam slipped his fingers underneath the hem of Dean’s shirt, his cold fingertips resting on the bare skin of his hips. Dean’s flesh burned where Sam touched him and he was already starting to crave it.

He took a half step forward, pressing Sam even further up against the wall. He slid his hand up Sam’s body, feeling him underneath the pads of his fingertips. He carded his hand through Sam’s hair, pulling on it slightly, standing up on his toes and angling Sam’s head down so that he could kiss Sam deeper.

Sam still had one hand on Dean’s waist, his other hand was wrapped around the base of Dean’s neck, blunt nails scraping along the short hairs there.

Dean pulled away, just a fraction of an inch, lungs burning with the want of oxygen, chest heaving with heavy pants and Sam let Dean get in a swallow of air before he was pulling Dean back to him, mouth hungry against Dean’s.

They stayed like that, tangled at the mouth, hands grabbing at whatever they could until they pulled away, still breathing against each other’s lips.

“Shit kid, where’d ya learn how to kiss like that?” Dean asked with a small chuckle, rubbing at his bottom lip.

And lord help him, Sam started to blush and it took everything in Dean not to reach out and kiss Sam once again. No one should look that adorable with blush fanning out across his face after kissing him like that. Sam knew what he was doing.

“Just because I don’t have a lot of experience doesn’t mean that I’m inexperienced.” Sam muttered and yeah, fuck not kissing him again.

“Come on, kid. Let’s get you home.” Dean said through a smile, pulling Sam from the wall and wrapping his arm around his shoulders.

By the time that Dean got back home, his clothes were now sticking to him, still damp from the water that he had shielded Sam from. His dad wasn’t asleep in his chair like Dean had expected him to be. He checked his room, sighing in relief when he saw him laying out on his stomach, snoring loudly.

He undressed his father, untying his shoes and placing them at the foot of the bed. Pulling back the blankets and pulling them up around his shoulders before, once again, filling up a glass of water and placing it on his bedside table. He knew, despite the fact that his father never explicitly told him, he was grateful for the fact that Dean made sure that he stayed hydrated. If anything, Dean knew that his father noticed that Dean did that small thing for him. There were only a couple of times that he had forgotten (because he was bone tired and fell asleep still fully clothed on his bed) and his father had yelled at him the next morning for not having any water for him.

Once he made sure that his father was cared for, he striped out of his clothes, the wet material falling to the ground with a wet plop and shivered under the cold stream. He was going to have to get that water tank fixed or he and his father weren’t going to be able to survive the winter.

He woke before his alarm went off, sleep still pulling at the corner of his eyes but he got up anyway. He had too. He rubbed the heel of his hand into his eyes as he walked into the kitchen with the means of making a pot of coffee before he left for the garage. However he stopped cold in his tracks when he crossed the threshold, seeing that his father was up and awake, his hair pushed up on one side of his head from where he had been sleeping, a cup of freshly brewed coffee in his hand.

Dean dropped his hand from his eyes, clearing his throat as he continued to walk into the kitchen, trying ignore the fact that his father’s eyes were trailing him. It was unusual for him to be up this early, aware and sober.

He grabbed a cup from the cupboard, filling it nearly to the brim of the strong, bitter liquid before turning around and meeting his father’s gaze.

“Good morning.” Dean finally spoke after a long moment.

“Where were you last night?” John asked, his voice completely void of any kind of emotion. He watched Dean, his eyes narrowed just ever so slightly, calculating.

Didn’t think that you noticed that I was gone. “I was out.”

The fingers that were holding onto the coffee cup tightened. “Don’t get smart with me, boy. Where were you?”

Dean swallowed as he looked down at his cup, unable to return John’s gaze. “I went to the old farm house. There was a party last night.”

John growled in annoyance. “Thought I told you not to go to anymore of those parties. Hell, thought you would have learned your lesson after what happened the last time you were at one of those parties. But you were always the child who would stick his hand back into the hole even after you got bit. Always were a bit dull.” John mumbled as he took a sip of his coffee.

Dean blinked once, biting back the way that his throat seemed to tighten at his father’s words. But then he bit down, clenching his jaw and stood just a little taller, pulling up the blocks that would protect him.

“You go home with anyone last night?” John asked as he set the cup back down.

This time Dean hesitated before answering. His father was understanding when it came to many different things and he didn’t necessarily complain when Dean came home from his shift at the bar with a few extra dollars and didn’t ask questions because John knew that women could tip well but they wouldn’t tip that well. But Dean wasn’t sure how understanding his father would be if he knew that he practically took Sam on a date.

“No.” He said with a locked jaw.

John scoffed. “Sure. Did you at least get her number or did she leave you like the last one?” But his interest in his son was already gone. The sports section in the paper that Dean still managed to pay grabbing his attention.

“I didn’t.” Dean mumbled, drinking the rest of his coffee, savoring the burn as it went down his throat. It distracted him from the knifes that were being stabbed into his heart. Great way to start the morning. He put the empty cup in the sink, slinking past his dad with a mumbled ‘I’ll see you after work’.

That received a weak grunt from John and that was it.

He didn’t talk much when he got to the garage. He grabbed his coveralls from where they hung on his hook in the back and slipped into them, checking the work log for the day, satisfied to see that it was nearly full.

It was good mindless work.

He was under some car, repairing the break lines when someone grabbed ahold of his ankle, pulling him out from underneath the car. He clinched his jaw in annoyance, ready to tear a new one in the person who thought that they needed to yank him out from underneath the car. Hadn’t they ever heard of just calling his name? However when he pushed up off the ground, someone hovered over him, their feet on either side of his body, forcing him to stay in the vulnerable position on his back. Dean’s body immediately went on the defense, ready to fight if he had too.

His knuckles were thirsty for blood.

“Thought I told you to stay away from him, Winchester.” Gordon sneered, gathering a fist full of Dean’s shirt, pulling him up from the ground just a bit and Dean’s blood boiled in his veins.

The last person that he wanted to deal with at the moment was Gordon

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean spit back, yanking Gordon’s hand away from his shirt and shoving him back so that Dean could climb to his feet.

“Don’t act so dumb. I’m talking about Sam.” Gordon replied, stepping up to Dean that their chest nearly touched, trying to make himself seem bigger than he actually was. “He comes home late last night smelling like booze and cigarette smoke with this dazed look in his eye and he won’t keep from smiling and mumbling about you. I’m not stupid, Winchester. You took him to that party, you got him drunk and then you slept with him. Kinda illegal being that he’s only seventeen.”

Sometime later when Dean was alone in his room and the events from today would replay in his head, there would be a giddy little skip to his heart at the thought that Sam was thinking about him. But that moment wasn’t now.

“Woah, hey now, I don’t know where you’re getting the idea that he got drunk and that I slept with him but that’s not what happened.”

“Really? Because that’s not what I hear. I get to work today after dropping Sam off at school and all I hear from my co-workers is how ‘Wesson left with Dean at the party last night’. And I thought to myself ‘surely they don’t mean Sam because he never went to any party’ and yet it makes sense.”

“You know, maybe you should ask him what really happened before you come into my garage and start making accusations. Whatever you think I am Gordon, I’m not. I don’t take advantage of people. In fact, I’m the whole reason why he didn’t drink last night. He showed up, had some party punch and I took it away from him. Then I took him to a diner and he had a milkshake. Alright? I didn’t do nothing to Sam.”

Gordon looked at him for a long second, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Alright, you might not have done anything this time but you’re the reason why he showed up at the party in the first place.” Gordon growled out. “If it weren’t for you planting that dumb ass idea into his head, he wouldn’t have needed you to so heroically save him.” The venom wasn't hard to miss.

“Fuck off, Gordon.” Dean spit. “I’ve got work to do and none of it has to deal with explaining myself to you. Sam can do whatever the hell he wants and if he wants to go to some party then you can’t keep him from doing that.”

Gordon took a step forward, grabbing another fist full of Dean’s shirt. “You better stay away from that kid, Winchester. He doesn’t need to be dragged into your mess. He’s got a future and a bright one at that. In a year, he’ll be done with school and then he’ll be out of here and he doesn’t need you screwing that up for him.”

“You already threatened me with that once.” Dean placed his hands in the middle of Gordon’s chest and shoved him away causing Gordon to stumble backwards a couple of steps. “Now unless you have a problem with your car, you need to get out of here.”

Gordon looked at Dean one last time before glancing over at the table where Dean had all of his tools laid out. As he turned to leave, he grabbed the edge of the table and flipped it over, all the tools clattering to the ground.

“Have a nice day, Winchester.” Gordon said with a tight smile and then disappeared out the door.

Dean ran a tired hand across his forehead, trying to collect himself and not run after Gordon and put his fist through his face on principle alone. It was a bitch ass move on Gordon’s part to flip all his tools like that but it had successfully pissed Dean off for the rest of the day. The customers had noticed it. The other guys at the garage noticed it when they came in for their shift and while Dean was good at trying to act like nothing was bothering him, he couldn’t keep the sharp tone out of his words.

They don’t bother him much throughout the day. They left him to his work, leaving the methodical process of taking apart machines and putting them back together calm him down.

He looked down at his watch sometime later, sighing to himself as he wiped his hands on his rag. The shift at the garage was over, all he needed to do was close up and in a couple of hours his shift down at the bar on the corner of the interstate would start.

Little pro tip: if you want good tips, flirt just a little with the customers. Don’t matter what they got between their legs. If they got money, they’re fair game and Dean used that to his advantage more than once. Anybody would be a fool not to return his flirting with those apple green eyes and freckles that you could get lost in.

He had half the mind to head home, maybe catch a couple of minutes of sleep before he worked for another solid eight hours but he was too wired. His body would never calm enough for him to actually drift off.

Working two jobs was hard; it wore him out. In between that and racing whenever he got the chance, he hardly felt like he had anytime to breathe but just working under the hoods of cars didn’t exactly pay all the bills and put gas in his car. However if he wanted to keep that fact that he was still racing a secret from his dad, he needed an extra stream of revenue.

He locked up the shop, pocketing the keys before he headed down the road, further into town. Most of the shops were closed at this hour. Nothing in this small town seemed to be open much later than six. Everyone wanted to be back at home in their living rooms all huddled around the TV watching Wheel of Fortune, seeing if they could solve those words puzzles before the contestants did. Dean didn’t mind it much, quite frankly. He liked it when he had a couple of hours to kill between shifts. It was just him and the empty street ahead of him. It sure beat having to answer all those questions about how he was doing, how his father was holding up, if he was still doing well.

Before he knew it, he was on the edge of town, walking past the little diner that he was in the night before. He expected to see the road wary truck drivers sitting inside, eager to have a little bit of human interaction before they had to get back out on the road.

But what he didn’t expect to see was the shaggy hair from the boy who was mindlessly sipping from a milkshake (vanilla ice cream with the chocolate syrup), flipping through what looked like to be a textbook sitting in the same booth they sat in the night before.

Dean smiled to himself, not able to keep himself from smiling and pushed the door open to the diner.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam didn’t look up from where he was however Ellen, who was working that night, looked up at the door, smiling when she saw him. Dean returned the smile and she returned to the conversation with the reasonably attractive truck driver that was leaning on the counter, a half eaten slice of pie in front of him.

“Well, are you a sentimental one.” Dean teased as he slid into the other side of the booth.

Sam seemed to jump a mile high when he heard Dean’s voice, the straw falling from his mouth. There was a little bit of chocolate syrup in the corner of his lips and Dean wanted to do nothing more than to lick it up for himself. Sam’s eyes widen like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jaw, looking down at the traitorous milkshake and the booth that he had picked out.

Surely it was a coincidence.

“I… uh…” He licked at the corner of his lip, licking up the chocolate, running his tongue along his bottom lip as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. He was really all too adorable.

And he decided then that he was never going to take Sam home to met his father. He would do nothing but tear Sam apart, making him run from Dean as fast as he could with his tail tucked between his legs. His father tended to do that to people.

“It was the only table that was open when I came in.” Sam stuttered out.

“Yeah?” Dean smiled, leaning back in the seat, throwing his arm over the back of the seat. “And what about the milkshake?”

Sam’s eyes widened even more and there was a light color of red that pained his cheeks and the top of his ears.

“Uh… Ellen, she remembered that I liked it and she… she got it for me.”

The fond smile didn’t leave Dean’s face. Never mind the fact that he had memorized Ellen’s schedule. It hadn’t changed for the last ten years that he had been coming here. She usually didn’t work Tuesday nights and he highly doubted that after so long of working the same schedule that she would suddenly change it. But he didn’t call Sam out.

Instead he stole one of the fries that was sitting on a plate that looked like Sam had abandoned it sometime ago and made a face when he realized that it was rather cold and was no longer the delicious deep fried potato that he thought it was. He looked around the table, taking all the books that were in various states. Some were opened. Some were closed, stacked on top of each other. All of them with post it notes sticking out of them. He picked up one of the books that had to weigh a ton, flipping it over to the title and read it out to himself. Advanced Business Calculus. Another quick glance around the table and there was no doubt in Dean’s mind that all of them were AP textbooks.

“Shit kid.” Dean whistled, haphazardly throwing the calculus book down, earning an annoyed look from Sam.” “Just how smart are you?”

If it was possible, Sam blushed even harder, reaching out across the table, picking up the book that Dean had thrown and placed it on top of one of the stacks that he had going in the corner.

“I told you. Plan on going out west for college. I have to do well in school, get some scholarships.” He shrugged, holding up the notebook that he was writing in as if for emphasis.  “It’s the only way that I’ll be able to afford to go.”

“Well then, by all means, keep studying.”

“Keep studying?” Sam repeated, the phrase a question in his mouth. “No, I couldn’t do that. That would be rude.” He started closing his notebook. “I could order you a milkshake, if you would like or… or something else.”

“Kid…” Dean reached out and stopped Sam from packing up completely. “It’s fine. Read your nerd books. I’ll be here for conversation if you want.”

Sam frowned before reluctantly opening back open his notebook and picking back up from where he left off from reading. Dean watched him, the way that his brow furrowed just a little while he was reading, his fingers tapping along the table every so often. The bones under his skin would ripple, pulling tight across his flesh.

Every few minutes Sam would pause from his reading and look up across the table. The bones under his skin would ripple, pulling tight across his flesh.

Every few minutes Sam would pause from his reading and look up across the table towards Dean and Dean would raise his eyebrows, silently asking if Sam wanted to talk and Sam would shake his head and return to his reading. Dean wasn’t sure how long he sat there watching Sam read, pause to look up at him only to return to reading.

He kept an eye on his watch, stealing a couple of cold fries every now and then and remained silent.

Finally, after about an hour, Sam dropped his pen, chewing on his bottom lip and looked up at Dean.

“I’ve gotta… Dean, I’ve gotta ask you something.” Sam said, his voice small, sounding timid and uncertain.

Dean moved from his position from leaning back against the seat to sitting up, placing his forearms on the table, leaning towards Sam, giving his undivided attention to the younger boy who had yet to stop chewing on his bottom lip. “Yeah, I bet.” Sam shot him another nervous look and the smile faltered on Dean’s face for a moment. “Alright, so what do you want to know?”

“It’s just…” He looked down at the table. “Last night… that wasn’t… I don’t know. That wasn’t just a… you know… a one time thing.” Sam pushed around one of the fries on his plate.

When Dean didn’t answer immediately, Sam stopped messing with the fry, blush fanning out across his face.

“I’m not trying to guilt you into anything. It’s just… I heard things around school today. Heard things about you and they all said that you don’t just ditch someone but they’ve also never said if you’ve been with a guy before and I don’t want to weird you out or anything, it’s just… I enjoy your company and I don’t want you to ignore me because you think that I’m going to be clingy or weird that I kissed you or…” Sam trailed off, realizing that he was rambling, only making a bigger fool of himself than he already was.

Dean leaned further onto the table, closer to Sam. “Look at me kid.” Sam raised his gaze but he didn’t directly look into Dean’s eyes. There was so fear and uncertainty in those hazel eyes. Uncertainty that Dean had created with his reputation. “You seem to forget that I kissed you back.”

Sam was now looking at him.

“Just because you hear the town talking about me, doesn’t mean that it’s all true. I’ve dipped my toes in both sides of the pool so to speak. You’re not going to scare me off with just one kiss.”

Sam relaxed after that, opening back open his notebook and he seemed to read with ease now.

Dean could have sat there and watched Sam for however long Sam was going to stay there but unfortunately he had to leave, his shift at the bar down the street calling his name.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked when Dean stood from his seat, straightening out the leather jacket he was wearing.

“I gotta punch the clock for a few hours down the street.” Dean replied, ruffling a hand through Sam’s hair. Sam pulled away, his nose bunched up, looking like a small child. “But don’t worry, kid, this isn’t the last that you’ll see of me.”

And it wasn’t. The next night, when Dean was trying to kill sometime between shifts again, he walked down the same sidewalk, past the diner and Sam was sitting in the same booth, a plate of forgotten fries and an empty glass at the edge of his table while he flipped through the pages of his book of the night.

Dean didn’t say anything as he walked into the diner (Jo was still working the night shift) and slid into the booth across from Sam. Sam looked up from his book, his lips pulled up at the corners in a greeting before he turned back to his book. Dean watched the kid read, take random notes and every so often, Dean would reach across the table to steal one of the cold fries, no matter how much he hated them.

The third night, Sam was sitting at that booth and once again Dean didn’t say anything as he took his respective place across from the younger boy. However the only thing that was different about this night was that instead of the fries being cold, they were hot. Almost like Sam had just ordered them.

Of course, Sam denied it but there was an adorable blush that fanned out across his face when Dean asked.

They didn’t talk about much. They never did. Sam was too busy with his school work and Dean was fine with just sitting there and watching him. It was relaxing. He didn’t have to do anything for a little while, let his body calm before he worked another busy shift down at the bar.

It started to become a regular occurrence. Sam would study for a little bit and when the words were doing nothing more than swimming on the page, he would close the books and they would talk.

There was one night they were talking about Sam’s life. About how how he’s moved around, never really staying with a family for very long. He’s had so many Thanksgivings and Christmases with so many different families that they all start to blend together.

It was times like these, when the sun had finally settled behind the horizon and was shining on some other part of the world, and it was only the two of them in the small booth that Dean would recall memories of a time that everything was still bright, when he still had a future in front of him. 

He would tell Sam about the number of Christmas’s that he could count on a single hand. He would tell him about how his father would wake him up early in the morning the day before Christmas, often times before the sun was even up and they would go down into the woods where the pines trees grew tall and they would pick one to cut down and bring back to their home. His mother would be awake by the time they got back, breakfast on the table, a fresh pot of coffee brewing. There would be Bing Crosby playing through the house and all three of them would decorate the tree with little glass balls and ceramic ornaments of angels playing the harp. Once all the ornaments were played up on the tree, his mother would hand him the star that would be placed on top and John would pick Dean up, place him atop of his shoulders and Dean would put the star on the top of the tree.

He never really looked at Sam when he would recall these memories of a time when he was still so innocent of the world and the problems that were brewing within that household and Sam would look at Dean, a certain kind of fondness in his eyes.

Sometimes when all the right cards would fall into all the right places, Dean would open up a little more, just a little and tell Sam about his father and how he lost his mother at the mere age of four. He would tell Sam about how his father did nothing more than drink now, drowning in the weight of the world and how he was doing the best that he could to support the two of them but there were nights when John would drink himself into a oblivion.

He tried, he really did but he had been to war one to many times. One for the U.S. army and another when he had to bury his wife while he had a small child clinging to him for comfort.

That would break the strongest of men. And John was just about two shakes from crumbling.

Sam never asked much about Dean’s childhood or his father or what he remembered of his mother. He would sit there and listen, let Dean tell him these little pieces of his life.

Dean’s not sure how they get on the topic of Gordon one night but the moment that Sam said his name, his fingers tightened around the glass that he was holding.

It had been days since he had his run in with Gordon but whenever he thought about him and the ideal threat that he threw Dean’s way, his blood started to boil.

Sam glanced down at Dean’s hand, the way that his knuckles were white.

He took a deep breath, pushing his own glass away. “Hey, Dean, can I… can I ask you about something?”

Dean met Sam’s gaze, knowing what he was going to ask about but he nodded nonetheless. Sam deserved to know the reason why Gordon was so dead set on keeping him away from him. At least just a little bit of the story.

“What happened between you and…” He trailed off.

“Between me and Gordon?” And Sam nodded. The grip on Dean’s glass didn’t loosen. “It’s a long story, kid.”

Sam frowned, wanting to know more but he didn’t ask anything else and Dean was grateful for it. Maybe there would be a time when Dean would tell him the whole story. There might come a day when he told Sam all the secrets that those roads that he raced on held. However, right now, Dean wasn’t ready to open up that can of worms.

After that night, they didn’t have deep, soul searching conversations but they sat there, happy and content listening to each other’s voices. Sam would usually call it a night whenever Dean had to go off to work. Sam would walk with Dean to the bar, his bag up on his shoulder. And while Dean would never actually admit it, he started to look forward to the couple of hours that he got to spend with this boy.

Nights when they were feeling a little more bold, Dean would pull Sam into the shadows and press him up against the side of the bar and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe.

There weren’t many days when Dean decided to call in sick to work, hell he wasn’t sure that there was actually ever a day that he didn’t call in, deciding that he just wasn’t going to show up. That’s one thing that his employers always seemed to appreciate about Dean. It was his punctuality, despite his… alternative lifestyle. As long as they didn’t see him sticking his tongue down the throat of some guy in the bathroom, and he still brought in those customers like he did, they could ignore those less favorable aspects of his life.

He sat across the booth from Sam, watching as Sam repeatedly ran a hand through his hair, frustrated sighs falling past his lips every few minutes. It was pretty obvious that whatever he was reading he wasn’t getting. Either that or the person who wrote the book was a complete idiot and Sam was scoffing at the guys idiocy. He was betting on the latter.

After several more minutes of frustrated sighs and watching how Sam’s brow seemed to furrow more and more at what he was reading, Dean finally just reached across the table and took the book away from him.

“Hey!” Sam exclaimed, making a move to grab the book from Dean but he held it just outside his reach. “I was still reading that!”

“Yeah, I know and now you’re not.” Dean replied, making sure to dog ear the page that Sam was one and closed the book, setting down on the seat next to him. If Sam wanted the book so damn badly, he was going to have to climb across Dean to get it and Dean would most certainly not complain about that.

“Dean…” He whined. “I have to finish reading that for school tomorrow. We might have a quiz over it.”

“Yeah, key word there kid, you might. I got through high school always betting on the might that we wouldn’t.” He smirked, remembering the number of times that he flirted his way through C’s on these quizzes and the pretty good times in the janitors closet. “Now, pack up your shit, kid. You need a break. You’re gonna melt that big brain of yours if you keep this up.”

Instead of packing up his stuff like Dean had said, the kid wanted to make things difficult and cross his arms across his chest instead, staring Dean down. “I’m not going anywhere until you give me my book back and I finish the chapter I’m supposed to be reading.”

“You know, I will carry you out of this diner if I have to.” Dean stated. And he would. He would pick Sam up from his seat, throw him over his shoulder, leaving all his stuff there at the table and he would carry Sam all the way to his car.

Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean, trying to gauge whether or not Dean would actually do something like that out in public. That was most certainly crossing the line of regular friendly behavior. Several moments passed and Dean was just about to move from the booth to grab Sam when Sam uncrossed his arms with a disgruntled sigh, mumbling something about Dean being a jackass and started to pack up the various books that he had.

Dean watched, waiting until every book and notebook was stuffed down into his backpack before handing over the book that he had taken, placing it into Sam’s waiting hand. At the very least, if Sam wanted to continue to study, he was going to have to take everything back out.

But he didn’t. He shoved the final book down deep in his bag, struggling a little with the zipper before turning back to look towards Dean.

“Where are we going?” Sam asked, sliding out of the booth following after Dean.

Instead of answering, Dean flashed Sam one of those signatures smirks at him walking back towards the garage where his car was.

It had been weeks since the last time that he had been at the races, partly due to the fact that there hadn’t been a ton of storms but if the weather reports held true, there was supposed to be a big one blowing through later that night and into early morning and for those folks back at town who didn’t know any better, they would just think that it was the thunder off in the distance.

He had filled up her tank earlier in the day, noticing that she was running low and luckily he had a few extra dollars in his pocket that he was able to afford the good stuff. His baby deserved the best, not any of that cheap imported crap that would ruin her engine faster than a sledgehammer could.

He checked her that morning too, making sure that she was running alright. It wasn’t that he negated the car, he was just ever so slightly paranoid about something coming loose. But she was looking to be in perfect shape, nothing that was wrong, not that he expected there to be.

Sam kept quiet the whole time to the garage, following closely behind Dean, shooting him another confused look before ducking into the car.

The roar of the engine echoed through the small town as Dean pulled out of the garage and he was sure that everyone heard it. Sam, being the good little boy he was, pulled his seatbelt across his body and snapped it into place. He didn’t even try to tell Dean to get buckled knowing that it was going to do no good.

They were only in the car for a couple of minutes before Sam figured out where they were going. He turned in his seat, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Are we really going to the races?” He asked and Dean shot him a smile that told Sam everything that he needed to know.

The road was a little more packed that what Dean was used to, people itching to get out and burn a little rubber. As he pulled up next to one of the regulars, he rolled down his window, shooting the guy a smile as he paid Dean the racing fees. It was never much, just enough to put a little bit of gas in his tank. Dean pulled out his wallet, stuffing the bills into his wallet then telling the guy that he better find him a damn good opponent because he was planning on having a good race.

The guy looked at Dean and then eyed Sam, his eyes narrowing and lips pulled into a hardline before he nodded briefly, going to find someone for Dean to race.

Dean pulled up to the starting line, putting the car into neutral, just waiting. Sam was staring ahead, his own breathing seeming to have increased like he was trying to keep calm. He reached across the cab, placing a comforting hand on his thigh. Sam turned his head, giving Dean a tight smile.

“You’re gonna be alright, kid.” He said. “Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

His own heart was pounding through his chest, so loud that he was sure that if Sam was listening over the music that he would be able to hear it. Everything was so much different than it was the last time he raced.

Right now, he wasn’t racing for someone, he was racing with someone. He was racing with the boy that he saw that night at the race who looked so pure and innocent and just like that, Dean knew that he needed to get to know him. And he did and somehow he convinced that boy to climb into the car with him.

It was honestly too much. His senses were filled with smell of smoke and rubber and heated metal and above all that, the smell of Sam sitting right next to him.

Sam was clutching onto the seatbelt, lips pressed into a thin line as his eyes were wide, staring in front of him. Dean wanted to reach across the seat, lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, try to tell him that they were going to be fine but his hands were stuck to the wheel. He couldn’t move. Wouldn’t move.

His eyes were focused on the road in front of him, the girl with the flag in the corner of his vision and the other car isn’t even there. It’s just the irregular breathing that’s falling past his lips, the base that’s pouring through the speakers, Sam and the open road.

Deep breath in, the engine of the car next to him revved, he revved his own. His fingers flexed around the steering wheel. Deep breath out. The flash of the flag, foot slamming down on the gas and they’re moving, speeding through the night.

Dean locked out his arms, trying to keep the wheel steady as the car got up to speed. Right now it would be so easy to flip, to spin out. The car next to him is falling just behind, their engine whining trying to keep up with Dean but now of that matters.

He can see the edge of town up ahead and he takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with oxygen and lets it out slowly.

He’s more centered, more present than he’s ever been behind the wheel, aware to the body that was sitting next to him. It was no longer just him in the car. He had Sam and Dean was all too aware of what these streets could take.

They took more than just burnt rubber and brake pads. They took the lives of innocent bystanders and the livelihood of others.

The night raced by, Sam still hadn’t moved from his spot, too frozen to do anything and the town limits were right there. He pressed down on the gas just a little harder. He felt the resistance of the engine, the pull against him as the car tried to fight.

The small green sign with white letters reading off Lebanon is nothing more than a blur of neon colors lit up by the white light of his headlights and then he slammed on the breaks, causing Sam to jerk forward in his seat.

He’s shaking by the time the car comes to a stop but there’s a small smile on his face that’s growing wider with every passing moment. It’s barely noticeable in the dark interior of the car but the headlights of the other cars outside cast a yellow glow in the cab. He’s still clutching onto his seat belt.

“You alright there, kid?” Dean asked, turning down the radio, pulling the car off the road and finding a spot to park in the cluster of cars.

He turned in his seat facing Dean, that smile still plastered on his face. “That was awesome.” His voice was shaky.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sam replied, moving to undo his seatbelt. The little goodie two shoes, wanting to follow the law even when he’s partaking in some illegal activity.

Dean turned off the engine, silence wrapping around them suddenly. If they listened hard enough, they could hear the bass of some song pouring out of someone’s upgraded sound system. The air that hang around them was nearly electric.

“I’ve never been in a car going that fast.” Sam breathed out.

“Gonna turn you into a little road junkie.” Sam smirked, opening up his car door and ducked out. Sam followed close behind, coming to stand next to Dean in front of the car. “Wouldn’t mind…”

“Winchester!” His name was called out across the crowd and Dean turned to see Benny approaching him, a beet in either hand. “Didn’t think that you were gonna come out tonight.”

“Yeah well, the streets were calling my name.” Dean replied, grabbing the can that Benny was holding out for him, popping the tab with one hand before taking a rather large sip.

Benny glanced around Dean, his eyes widening for a brief moment before a cheeky grin broke out. “Yeah and it had nothin’ to do with your boy there?”

Dean turned, seeing that Sam had hoisted himself up on the cooling hood of the car. His feet were dangling off the edge, a droopy little smile still planted on his face. One that Dean never wanted to see disappear.

“Shut up, Benny.” Dean shot back.

“Whatever you say, chief.” Benny grinned, looking back at Sam once more. “I’ll leave you and your boy.” And with that Benny turned and left the pair alone.

Dean could feel heat rising on his face at the look that Benny game them. He raised the can back up to his lips, drowning another huge sip trying to get rid of the butterflies that were in his stomach. Which was fucking ridiculous because Dean Winchester didn’t get fucking butterflies. But they wouldn’t leave.

This was the first time that he’s actually been out in public with Sam. The diner was one thing. It was on the outskirts of town where mainly drifters and people looking for conversation stopped for a cup of coffee. Even though they were at the races, a place that wasn’t really in the public’s eye, Dean knew these people. He went to school with these people. He works with these people and while he knew that they knew that sometimes he swung for the other team, he was never actually seen out in public with another guy.

Yeah, these people might be a little more progressive than some of the people that he knew, he wasn’t sure how they were going to react to seeing him driving around with this boy.

However with all that being said, he was more than willing to break a couple of noses to solidify the fact that Sam was the guy that he was with and that they didn’t have to like it and Dean didn’t care.

But Sam. He wasn’t sure how Sam was going to react to the whole thing. He seemed a little more reserved when it came to the whole dating thing and Dean was pretty certain that he was probably the first guy that he was with. Or at least the first guy that he was trying to build a relationship with and it wasn’t something you experimented with at a party. 

Also it was always pretty obvious when you came out here with someone, you were a little more than just a friend. One look at Sam sitting on the top of Dean’s car, everyone would know what was going between the two of them.

Dean leaned out against the grill of the car, Sam’s leg nearly touching his hip. They didn’t really say anything, opting to watch the races. Every now and then, someone Dean would know would walk past the two of them, looking between the two and send Dean a provocative look that Dean was really hoping that Sam didn’t see. There were also a couple of people that Sam went to school with that he noticed and they would talk for a moment. Sometimes about schoolwork, other times asking if he was going to so and so’s party. Dean hated the way that his blood seemed boil when someone would ask Sam if he wanted to hang out sometime later in the week. They talked to Sam almost as if Dean wasn’t sitting right there next to him.

They would finally leave when Dean would sigh, a little more loudly than what was necessary and shift his body weight, making his presence know (as if they didn’t already know that he was there) and they would end the conversation and go else where looking like a deflated balloon.

He could practically feel Sam staring into the back of his head but he didn’t say anything.

Sam shifted on the the hood, his leg lightly bumping against Dean’s hip before he settled again. “Does it… embarrass you to be out here with me?” Sam asked after a moment, his voice barely breaking through the night and it made Dean’s stomach twist. He almost sounded like he was scared for the answer.

Dean turned around, moving to position himself in between Sam’s leg, his hands resting on his thighs. Sam stared back at him, his eyes searching Dean’s face for something and he wasn’t sure what he was looking for.

“What makes you say that?”

Sam shrugged, ducking his gaze. “I don’t know. It’s just… whenever people talk to me, you get all defensive and annoyed. And… you haven’t really looked at me tonight and I… we can leave if you want. Go back to the diner or something. Or if you want to stay, I could find a ride. I’m sure that someone could take me home.”

Dean ran his hands up Sam’s legs, grabbing a hold of his hips and pulled him to the edge of the hood. There was a small squeak of surprise that escaped from Sam as he reached out to hold onto Dean at the sudden movement.

“Does it embarrass you to be out here with me?” Dean flipped the question. He hadn’t missed the way that the kids would blush whenever Dean would glance over at him.

“Of course not!” Sam exclaimed. “I like being out here with you.”

“Yeah well… I like being out here with you too.” Dean admitted. And he did. He liked spending time with someone that actually wanted to be there with him. Not because of what he could give but because he just wanted to be there. the light from the other cars created some kind of glow around Sam that almost turned his hair golden.

And fuck, he wished that Sam was just a little bit older, just a year older and then it would be okay for them to be together, to actually be together.

And maybe, just maybe, he would have the chance to follow Sam to California. Get a job up there working at a garage or something. Pay for an apartment so they could live together, off campus. Sam would go to school, fill that brain of his with more knowledge and Dean would work and it would be good. Better than what he was currently living through.

He could see it happen too. He could see the two of them living somewhere away from this town, from everything that people thought he was. He would be away from the memories and the nightmares. He would be away from his…

Sam surprised him, pulling him away from his thoughts of the could be’s that would never happen and kissed him.

His fingers fanned out across his face, fingers splayed along his jaw and Dean kissed him back, his hands holding onto Sam’s bony hips underneath his khakis slacks. He nearly had to stand on the tips of his toes to kiss Sam back because the fucker, even sitting on top of his car, was nearly taller than him. Which was completely unfair if you asked Dean cause Sam was younger than him. He was supposed to be smaller than him.

However it did make Dean imagine just how big Sam actually was.

Sam was flushed when he pulled away. Even now, after many heated make-out sessions in that old booth and that kiss that they shared while Dean was soaking to the bone after keeping him dry, Sam still blushed like it was the first time that he ever kissed him.

And he never seemed to get enough of it, always holding onto Dean like he was starved for affection. Dean knew that he was.

Sam pulled Dean back down, mouth hungry and wanting against Dean’s.

Dean ran one of his hands down Sam’s thigh. He grabbed the bend of his knee, pulling it up around his body, settling his leg around his hip and pulled Sam even closer to his body. They were pressed up against each other, the only that on each other’s mind was echoer mouth and body and nothing else mattered.

Sam’s hands were holding onto Dean’s face then he was sliding them down his body, briefly resting on his waist before his fingers dipped under the hem of his shirt, grazing the warm skin that was below the soft cotton.

“Fuck Sam…” Dean groaned as Sam broke away, pressing wet, open mouth kisses down his neck, pulling down the collar of his shirt only to suck on a spot where his neck met his shoulder. Dean wanted to stay there, pressed against Sam but he could feel Sam’s arousal pressing hard against his stomach and Dean would admit that his own jeans were starting to grow a little uncomfortable.

But he couldn’t go through with it. He didn’t know just how innocent Sam was and he wasn’t about to take something away from Sam before he was a consenting adult in the eyes of the law.

No matter how much he wanted it.

Sam’s mouth, his hands, his body started to move insistent against Dean’s and while every part of him screamed for it to continue, he dropped Sam’s legs, breaking the kiss that he so desperately wanted to continue.

However he didn’t step back. He didn’t sever the physical connection of their bodies and yet Sam still whined. He fucking whined and dug his fingertips deeper into the soft flesh of his waist and looked at him with those wide doe eyes of his that were looking all too innocent for what he was whining for.

“Sam… I can’t do this to you.” He whispered. “Not right now.”

He expected that Sam would look away, looking bashful but instead he held his gaze, looking into Dean’s, unmoving. Sam swallowed thickly before nodding his head, just once and he ducked his gaze, recapturing Dean’s lips but this time he was less insistent, calmer.

“Oh yeah, Winchester, get some.” Someone called off in the distance. They both pulled away, nearly at the same time.

Dean groaned internally, hating the way that people had to ruin something that was supposed to be exclusively between him and Sam. But then again, that’s what he got for taking Sam to the races and basically sticking his tongue down his throat on the hood of his car where literally everyone could see him.

Dean licked his lips, running a hand on the back of his neck. “Sorry, Sam, I didn’t…” He wasn’t exactly sure what he was apologizing for.

Sam leaned forward, closing the small distance between them, kissing him once more. Dean could feel the heat coming off his face. “You’re fine, Dean.” Sam whispered against him.

And there was that mutual understanding between the two of them, that Dean wanted to be seen with Sam and Sam didn’t mind if they were called out by his peers about making out with this beautiful boy on the hood of his car.

There wasn’t much more said between the pair. Dean moved out from between Sam’s legs and made himself comfortable sitting next to him on the hood, their thighs touching and for the moment, that was enough for the both of them. Feeling the presence of each other, the heat from each other’s body. They watched as other cars raced down the road, their headlights growing bigger and bigger until it came to a complete stop and there were various cheers and grunts from the crowd around them.

Dean had long ago finished the beer that Benny had given him, the can somewhere on the ground, forgotten about just like the others that littered the ground. The buzz from the race and the thrill about kissing Sam out in public and the warm feeling he got from drinking was starting to wear off. He liked sitting there, watching the people around him but his muscles were itching to do something, to move.

“Hey…” Dean nudged Sam with his leg and Sam tore his attention away from the driver who had just parked after winning his race. “I’m gonna find Benny and get another beer, alright. Don’t move.” He said hopping off the hood.

Sam sighed, rolling his eyes. “I’m not five, Dean. I’m not just gonna wander off. Just bring me back one.”

“Yeah, right kid.” Dean scoffed. “Don’t move.”

Dean turned on his heel, heading towards the crowd of people. He wasn’t sure if Benny was still around. Knowing him, he probably found some reason to escape into the backseat of his car with some girl and Dean wasn’t going to walk in on that scene again. However it wouldn’t be too hard for him to find a drink. Someone, somewhere would have a cooler with an open door policy and share one with him.

He walked past people, saying hey to those that addressed him, not staying long enough to actually hold a conversation. He just wanted to get his beer and head back to Sam. Maybe escape into the backseat with him.

He spotted Benny’s head over the crowd of people talking to a couple of their friends that they went to highschool with. He could almost hear his hearty laughter over the noise of everything. It was always kind of comforting to him, in a way.

With a clear destination set in mind, he held his head up high, eyes focusing on the person that he considered to be one of his only true friends when he felt someone grab the collar of his jacket, yanking him backwards in between a couple of cars. Whoever it was pressed him up against one of the cars, their forearm pressed securely against his chest. There wasn’t much light filtering down where he was being held and he could barely make out the features of the person that was holding him and the two figures that stood behind him but it was clear that they weren’t Gordon. They weren’t tall enough.

He tried to push them away, get the upper hand but the kid put all his weight into keeping Dean against the car and the awkward position that he was standing in, he didn’t have a ton of leverage to move much.

“Always knew you were a fag, Winchester.” The kid snarled. “Takes guts though to show up here with that boy.”

Dean growled, trying to push away again but it only ended him getting pressed into the car even harder. “It’s not exactly anything new.” He spit out.

The kid considered that for a moment before replying. “Yeah, but it’s one thing to talk about sticking your tongue down the throat of another fag but it’s completely another thing to actually do it out in public.”

The voice sounded familiar. Like a sound from a distant memory and Dean raked his brain trying to place where it came from. Then it struck him all at once, that condescending tone that lined his words. The pompous attitude. It was something that came from all the kids who lived in that house up there on that grand hill and were destined to go to some ivy league college.

Of course Brady would be the one to be making a big deal out of nothing. There were enough rumors flying around about him and where he liked to stick it.

“Thought the town was a pretty progressive town, Brady. Didn’t think that someone like you would mind. Not with what I’ve heard you doing.”

In return, Brady used his free hand to punch Dean across the face. It hurt, his face stung where Brady’s fist connected with his fist but it wasn’t hard enough to draw any blood. Kid needed to learn how to actually punch.

“What do you want, Brady? You wanna try to punch me straight?”

“I’m not gonna do anything to you. You know how to take a punch but your boy toy over there, it would kinda hard to write with his skull crushed in, don’t cha think? He could say good-bye to that dream of being some big shot lawyer.” Dean once again tried to push forward but Brady wasn’t moving. “Poor little orphan boy like him, no one would care. He would die in some alley somewhere.”

Dean growled, the sound coming somewhere deep within his throat as he planted his feet into the ground, hands pressed firmly in the middle of Brady’s chest and finally pushed him off of him, spinning the two of them around and now it was Brady that was pressed up against the car.

Brady’s two friends took a step forward, as if they were going to pull Dean away but Dean shot them a look that froze them to their spot.

“Don’t you dare touch him, Brady.” Dean growled, his face mere inches away from Brady’s.

Brady just laughed, making the blood boil within Dean’s body.

“The races are a dangerous place. People could get hurt. It’s dark and the kid just ran out in front of the car and it all happened so fast. I couldn’t stop.” Brady teased with a twisting smile and Dean resisted the urge to break a rib… or maybe two. “You know how dangerous these streets are, Dean.” He taunted.

The blood in his veins ran cold and Dean suddenly released Brady from the car and Brady’s laugh echoed around him. “You better stay away from him.”

“Then he better stay away from the races and you better stay away from him.” Brady echoed back.

Brady gave Dean one last hard push before he disappeared in the crowd of people. Dean turned back, looking at the car and he lets out a sigh of relief when he saw that Sam was still seated on top of the hood, a light breeze blowing his hair along his forehead.

He wiped the palms of his hands on his jacket, trying to get his heart rate back to a somewhat normal rate and pretend that he hadn’t just heard someone make a threat on Sam’s life. If this was any other day at any other time, he would have ripped out Brady’s throat just on principal for even suggesting harming Sam but there was something in his eyes, something dark, something evil that made Dean want to wrap Sam up in the arms of safety.

“Thought you were gonna get a beer.” Sam said when Dean came into view, noticing Dean’s empty hands.

“Yeah and what kind of responsible boyfriend would I be if I got behind the wheel drunk.” Dean answered, coming up to stand in front of Sam and Sam froze.

His eyes widened as he stared at Dean, his body rigid. And the easy smile that Dean had on his face started to slip. He could feel it as started to fall and he suddenly wished that he could take those words back. Either that or sink back into the crowd and grab that beer that he needed.

Dean started to apologize for what he said the same time that Sam started to ask Dean if he was actually serious. They both fell quiet at the same time, just looking at each other.

“You actually mean that?” Sam asked. “That you want that… with me?” He sounded almost surprised.

Dean Winchester was never good with words. He felt like words were often times just thrown around, never really thought out. Noises to fill in the void. And ever since he was young, he was always told to never talk unless spoken too. A good kid was one seen, not heard. It had come from a lifetime of being told to not speak and so he didn’t.

Instead he spoke through his actions.

He grabbed Sam’s face, not caring if Brady and whoever was with him was staring at him and Sam. If they wanted to hurt him, then they could but all that mattered was that Sam knew how he really felt.

If Sam knew that, then everything else would fall into place.

Except it could never be that easy, could it?


	4. Chapter 4

“We should probably get you home.” Dean whispered, pushing Sam’s hair back from his forehead. “You’ve got school tomorrow.”

Sam grumbled something out in reply but reluctantly nodded and slid off the car.

It was easy to be with Sam. Dean wasn’t sure when he realized that but there was a moment when he was sitting at the booth, sipping on his milkshake lips pulled into a smile as he listened to Sam tell a story about what happened in his AP Language Composition class and he realized that it was easy to be around him. It was easy to smile and laugh and joke and tease. He didn’t have to keep up this macho facade around Sam. It didn’t feel like it was a burden to be around him.

And the thing that was the most concerning but most exciting was the fact that he would find himself counting down the minutes until he got to see the kid again. He felt like some love struck puppy.

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he had it this bad.

Days started to turn into weeks and then the weeks turned into a month and at some point Dean stopped sitting on the other side of the booth, rather sliding in next to Sam, an arm resting around the back of the booth, around his shoulders.

Dean would help when he could, offering pieces of advice to his essays or going over the math that he was working on despite the fact that he wasn’t really sure if he was right but Sam seemed to appreciate it. Dean was always hyper aware of the way that Sam would study him while he would read something that Sam wrote. And the way that he would have the biggest smile on his face when Dean would tell him that it was good and he had done a good job.

Sam was leaning up against Dean, reading through his AP Comparative Gov. book, when he sighed, finally closing the book. He shifted against Dean, moving to where he could look at his face better, chewing on his bottom lip, staring at the profile of Dean’s face.

“You know, if you take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Sam elbowed Dean in the ribs, muttering out jerk before he turned to look at the back wall. There was no one in the diner. There had been a little family that looked like they only stopped because they were tired of being on the road but they left a little while ago.

The comfortable silence that they were previously sitting in seemed to disappear the longer that Sam sat there, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Have you ever been in a relationship?” Sam finally spit out, the words spilling from his lips like if he didn’t say them fast he wasn’t going to say them at all.

The moment that word fell past Sam’s lips, his body went cold. And he couldn’t exactly tell you why. Days ago, he had called himself Sam’s boyfriend. Almost an innocent gesture except it wasn’t. But now Sam was asking about relationships. Just asking, mind you but Dean knew the motive behind it. 

He tried to still his racing heart but with no avail. Even when he would think back on it, he couldn’t tell you why he froze up like he did. He had opened that can of worms at the races and Sam was just asking about them.

But the thing was, Dean Winchester didn’t do relationships. He did one night stands, maybe he would come back a few days later for another but he didn’t do relationships. He felt his heart starting to beat a little faster and there was a hitch to his breath when he tried to speak.

It wasn’t that Dean was scared of being in a relationship it was just… he was scared of what the possibility of being in a relationship with this boy would bring. Sam made him happy and he wanted to be with him.

But he couldn’t handle the thought of Sam learning that what he thought Dean was, was something that he didn’t want. Dean didn’t want to end these nightly meetings and the easy conversations.

But the longer he stayed silent, the more his heart seemed to clench. He moved his arm, placing it in his lap and Sam moved away from Dean, just a fraction of an inch but it felt like miles.

“No.” He finally answered. “I haven’t.”

Sam swallowed thickly, blinking once and still not looking at Dean. “So you… you wouldn’t want to…” He didn’t finish and Dean wanted him to because it would have been so much easier to just answer a yes or no question than finishing his sentence.

A couple more tense moments passed before it all became too much for Dean. He was starting to feel trapped, feeling the heat from Sam’s body so close to his and the thoughts, the possibilities that were swimming around in his head.

“I’ve gotta… I’ve gotta go.” Dean said, sliding out of the booth and pulling on his jacket.

Sam turned to face him, his eyes glassy and he nodded. They didn’t say anything. Dean looked at Sam for just a moment, wanting to say something to make those tears disappear but he had to get away. He turned, heading to walk out the door when he heard his name being muttered from behind him.

He turned and Sam still hadn’t moved from the booth but the way that the yellow-white light hit his face, he could see that those tears had already started to fall.

He waited for Sam to say something to say anything but his lips remained sealed and Dean left.

His thoughts tormented him the entire way that he walked to the bar. The thoughts of what he could have had with Sam because it was clear that he had ended something before he really started it. Never mind the kisses that they shared in the shadows and in that checkered booth. And never mind the fact that Dean had told Sam things about himself, about his life, that he hadn’t uttered to another soul before. Never mind the fact that he was the one that had started this whole thing with that damn comment back at the races.

Never mind the fact that he had kissed Sam in an answer to his question.

He couldn’t remember the last time he told someone about his father, about the way that he wasn’t doing as well as everyone thought he was. He knew that he never told anyone that he wanted to get out, start something of his own, maybe become race out on a real track that wasn’t illegal.

Obviously he had trusted Sam enough to tell him those things.

That was basically a relationship right there, right. Trust to tell that person things that you wouldn’t want to utter to the darkness.

And yet he freaked and he ran because that’s what he did best. He ran.

But it was always one thing to say something but it was completely another thing to follow through with it.

If only he were a stranger man than he wouldn’t have left that beautiful boy alone in that diner.

The next night when he was walking from the garage to the bar and he passed by the diner, he saw through the windows that Sam was sitting in the back booth, two milkshakes sitting on the table.

Everything in Dean wanted to run inside, wrap Sam up in a hug and beg for forgiveness and yet he pulled his hoodie up over his head and quickly walked past the diner. Yeah, Sam might still want to fix things but it was clear, to at least Dean, that all he did was screw things up.

He expected for the booth to be empty the second night that he passed it but Sam was still there, this time not looking at the door. Instead he was bent over a book, brows furrowed as he read.

And there, on Dean’s side of the table, was another milkshake.

For the second night, Dean walked past the diner, ignoring the pang of guilt in his chest and started his shift early at the bar.

The third night, Sam was still there however the milkshake was not and that hurt just a little bit more than it did the night before.

It was the sixth night that he passed the diner when he saw that the booth was empty. He looked down at the ground, stuffing his hands into his pockets. That was going to be that. Sam had finally gotten over him and maybe it was for the best.

This time he didn’t hurry past the diner, he looked down at the cracked cement, watching his worn work boots when he felt a hand close around his elbow. He hoped, for just a moment that it was Sam but when he turned, he saw that Ellen was holding the door open and holding onto his elbow. He stared at her in confusion. She wasn’t… she wasn’t supposed to be working tonight.

“Dean Winchester, where the hell have you been?” She snapped, a frown on her lips.

Dean shrugged, looking back at the booth before turning back to her.

“Oh, you don’t know?” She asked mockingly and before Dean could brace himself, she let go of the door and reached out to slap Dean on the back of the head. “You know that he’s been waiting for you? Sam? He’s bought you a damn milkshake the past few days and you don’t even have the decency to show up!” Dean looked down at ground again. “You know, I had to wipe off tears from his textbooks so he wouldn’t stain them. What the hell happened between the two of you?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. I got scared, I guess.”

“Scared of what? A chance to finally be happy?”

“It’s just… he wanted to start something with me. Ellen, I’m not… I wouldn’t be good for him. I mean, you’ve seen the books that he reads for school. He’s smarter than I’ll ever be. I’m just some dropout. I’ll drag him down. I’ll ruin him.”

“Boy, are you seriously that blind? You make him so happy. He doesn’t care that you’re a dropout. If he did, do you really think that he would still be showing up at the booth a month later?”

“He doesn’t…”

“He does, you idiot. You know he came by today, asking if you had stopped by the diner at all this past week? He told me to tell you that he’s sorry. He didn’t mean to make you mad or whatever. He just wants to pick things back up.”

Dean looked up at Ellen, looking for any trace of a lie on her face but he didn’t find any.

“You better go find that boy and apologize to him and beg for forgiveness. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you and I’ll be damned just to sit by and watch you let him walk away.”

Dean nodded, his heart now racing in his chest. He wanted to get to Sam now. He wanted to take him back to the diner and buy him a milkshake and apologize until Sam got sick of it.

However he knew that he needed to do something else. Ellen released his elbow and smacked him upside the head once again and Dean turned back towards town, heading towards Sam.

Work be damned.

He remembered Sam’s address from the first time he dropped the kid off and he was nearly out of breath when he stopped in front of it. He took a deep breath, trying to get oxygen back into his lungs before he went around back.

Dean jumped over the fence leading into the backyard of Sam’s place. There wasn’t any light bleeding in through the windows. However he kept his eyes on the window as he picked up a decent sized rock and threw it up against Sam’s window. It hit the glass with a soft plink and fell back to the ground. He waited for a couple of moments, watching the curtains before he picked back up the rock and threw it against the window again.

This time there was movement in his room. The curtains pulled open and a second later, the window opened and a bleary eyed, surprised looking Sam peeked his head through the window.

“Dean!” Sam hissed. “What the fuck are you doing? I was asleep.”

“Yeah and now you’re not.” Dean smirked. “Get down here.”

“Why?”

“Just get down here, Sam. I wanna make it up to you.”

Sam narrowed his eyes, looking down at the man standing in his backyard with that fucking smirk on his face before he sighed, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. I’ll meet you around front. Just be quiet, okay? I don’t wanna get caught.”

“You won’t.” Dean replied but Sam had already shut his window.

Dean smiled to himself, just thinking about the prospects that the night would bring.

True to his word, Sam met him out on the front lawn, hair still a mess from having been woken up and he rubbed at his eyes as he came to a stop in front of Dean. “Where are we going?” Sam asked as he followed Dean as they started down the street.

Dean looked over at Sam, a small smile still on his lips. “Don’t you worry about it. It’s a surprise.”

Sam sighed out in annoyance, bumping against Dean with his shoulder. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because… it’s a surprise.”

Sam doesn’t say much more than that, another sigh passing his lips but he remained otherwise silent. That was up until they walked a couple of blocks and Sam recognized where they were going.

“We’re going to the motel?” He asked. Dean didn’t miss the exasperated sigh that lingered on the end of his sentence.

They were going to some flea infested motel when he had a perfect comfortable bed back at home.

“No… we’re going swimming, kid.” Dean corrected, shooting Sam a look before he turned the corner and the motel in question was in sight.

There wasn’t much too it. Like the diner, it was at the edge of town, a place mostly abandoned by the locals, leaving it only to the traveling business men and tried trucks looking for a place to rest their heads for a couple of hours, among other things. The neon red sign that had faithfully turned on every night for the past twenty-seven years cast a glow across the parking lot, illuminating the two boys who darted across it.

They come to a stop in front of the wrought iron fence, the water that laid on the other side, blue and inviting. Sam turned back to Dean looking more excited than Dean had seen him in a long time. “Are we really breaking into a pool?”

Dean gave Sam that half smirk. “Yeah. Now come here. I’ll boost ya over.” He knelt down to the ground, cupping his hands together, his fingers laced together. Sam stepped into Dean’s hands and Dean boosted him up and over the fence. Sam landed on the other side, his sneakers making a muffled sound against the concrete.

Sam was all but giggling when Dean dropped down next to him, with a grunt, brushing his hands off on his shirt.

“Ya surprised, kid?” Dean asked as he kicked his shoes off.

“Yeah!” Sam laughed back, walking closer to the water's edge. Every few seconds, the water would lap at the edge of the pool, ripples flickering across the surface. Sam bent down, his fingers dipping into the water, smaller ripples radiating out from his hands.

Dean stood back a couple of steps, watching Sam as he dragged his hand back and forth in the water as he stripped out of his clothes. He went to the edge of the water, diving in, feeling the water break underneath him as he dove under. He came up a few seconds later in front of Sam, blinking the water out of his eyes.

“Come on, kid, get undressed. Swim with me.”

Sam’s eyes dipped beneath the water’s surface, seeing that Dean was completely bare and he blushed a little as he stood back up, toeing off his shoes. Dean watches as Sam starts taking off all of his clothes, more and more of his skin being exposed to the night air. He hesitated for a moment, fingers hovering over the waistband of his underwear before he took a deep breath and pulled them all the way off. Then he was completely bare, just like Dean was.

Sam shivers as he steps into the water. It’s probably a little too late in the year to be swimming, the air just a little too cold but the pool’s got some kind of heater and it feels nice against Dean’s skin. Sam then dives under the water, swimming past Dean and coming up in the middle of the pool, his bangs sticking to his face. He pushes them off his forehead, shaking his hair, the tiny beads of water, hitting the pool. His mouth is stretched out into a huge grin.

Sam’s laughing and that’s all that matters. They’re together and Sam’s happy and he’s happy.

Then Sam’s splashing him with water, spraying Dean in the face and he’s laughing even harder enough and Dean can’t help but join in.

“Shh…” Dean says through his laughing. “You’re gonna get us caught, kid.”

Dean pushed off the edge of the pool, swimming closer to Sam. Sam stays there for a moment, just within reach of Dean before he splashes him again and swims away, his laugh echoing off the water.

Dean scoffed and dove under the water, swimming after the kid that was trying to get away from him. He reached out and  took a hold of Sam’s ankle, holding him in place as he came up to the surface and dunked Sam under the water. Only Sam grabbed a hold of Dean and pulled him under with him.

They staring at each other, each other’s face distorted through the water and it was Sam who closed the distance, reaching out for Dean and kissed him.

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s tiny waist, holding onto the small boy and kissed him until his lungs burned for oxygen and he had to go back up to where he could breath. When he broke the surface, he was breathless for so many different reasons. For the lack of oxygen in his lungs, for the feeling of Sam’s naked body pressed up against his, for the way that he still couldn’t get over the way that Sam kissed him.

He hadn’t stopped smiling since they got to the pool and he doesn’t think that he ever will.

Sam started to swim backwards, towards the edge of the pool and Dean followed. He stops when Sam hits his back against the edge and Dean swims up to him, their chest nearly touching. He kisses Sam again, unable to keep away from Sam. Sam reaches out and grabs a hold of Dean’s face, pulling him even closer.

He broke away so much sooner than Dean wanted him to, slipping past the pool edge and Dean’s body and swam over to the metal ladder, hoisting himself up on it, sitting on the top rung.

Dean dove back under the water, coming up in front of where Sam was waiting. There were small goosebumps that were starting to break out across his skin.

“I’m sorry I freaked the other day when you asked about wanting to be in a relationship with you.” Dean’s voice sounded so loud despite the fact that he was speaking barely above a whisper. “It’s just…” He trailed off, not really knowing what he was going to say.

“You didn’t think that someone could actually want you in that way?” Sam finished for him, sounding almost as if was admitting a truth to himself as opposed to completing Dean’s statement. And Dean’s silence was all the answer that he needed. Sam reached out between the distance, grabbing Dean’s face, holding him. “Dean, you’re wanted and I want this… with you.”

Sam was looking at Dean in that way that Dean’s so used to, his eyes blown wide with want and desire but while Dean was so used to that look, he wasn’t used to the way that his name fell past his lips. Sam muttered his name, the word sounding like a prayer and this wasn’t like every other time. Sam wasn’t just wanting his body, Sam was wanting him. All of him. The good parts. The bad parts and Dean knew that Sam wasn’t going to leave him.

He was looking at him like he did when he was sitting on the hood of his car.

And yet Dean still shook his head, not allowing himself to do the one thing that he desperately wanted to do.

“Sam… no.” Dean whispered.

“Why.” He whined, sounding so young, so childish right then.

“Because Sam, you’re not even eighteen yet. I’m not… I’m not gonna take that away from you, kid.”

“But I…”

“Don’t you say that, kid.” Because if Sam started begging Dean wasn’t going to be able to hold his resolve and he was going to take the one thing from Sam that he would never be able to give back.

However Sam didn’t stop. He looked at Dean, those hazel eyes wide, staring at Dean, begging.

“Fuck, kid.” Dean muttered, running a hand through his hair before he pulled himself up out of the water just a little bit, spreading Sam’s legs and settling his body between his thighs.

Sam’s shaking as Dean leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips before he ducks his head, his lips trailing down his body. Sam’s skin is cold underneath his lips as he kisses a trail down his stomach, settling right below Sam’s navel.

Sam’s hard, his dick pressing up against Dean and he looks up at the boy just one more time, for one more confirmation before he takes Sam into his mouth. Dean moaned around Sam, the salty taste of Sam mixing with the harsh taste of the chemicals in the water settling on his tongue.

Sam grabs a hold of the edge of the pool grounding himself as Dean continued to suck Sam off. Dean started to stroke himself under the water.

It doesn’t last long, all the sensations around Sam being too much for his body to handle and he comes down Dean’s throat with a shout of his name. Dean pulls off of him, his hand working even faster under the water, getting himself off and he comes in the water with a soft grunt that sounded just a little bit too much like Sam’s name.

He rested his forehead against Sam’s chest, hearing his heart beating. He tried to catch his breath.

The water calms around them and the faint sound of crickets is the only thing that could be heard. Sam started to run his fingers through Dean’s hair when the sound of a door opening pulled them both a part, lighting spilling from the motel meters away from him.

They stare at each other for a moment before they’re both rushing out of the pool, water dripping down their bodies as they grab their clothes and scramble over to the fence. Dean hoisted Sam back up and over the fence and then Dean followed after him, jumping down after Sam.

“Hey!” A man yelled after them, the sound of heavy foot falls chasing after them. “Hey, kids! Stop! Come back here!” But they don’t stop.

They left wet footprints down the sidewalk as they ran from the motel owner who was chasing after them. When the only thing that could be heard was the sound of their feet, they ducked into an alley, both nearly doubled over in laughter and redressed.

“Thanks, Dean,” Sam whispered into the darkness as Dean stood in front of Sam’s house. Neither one of them wanted the night to end but Sam had school in the morning and they had already been out for way too long.

“Yeah, no problem, kid.” Dean replied, kissing Sam once more. “Besides, I kinda owed you from just walking out on you the other day. If you’ll… if you still want to, I wouldn’t mind…” He rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, feeling his face heat up. Why couldn’t he just say what he wanted to say? Why was he so scared.

“Yes.” Sam answered back. “Yes, Dean. I do.”

Neither one of them moved. Dean didn’t want to move. He wanted to stand out on the front lawn, stealing the warmth from Sam’s body. He wanted to make up for the lost time that his damned emotions stole from him. He wanted…

“Do you… do you want to come in with me?” Sam asked, his voice being swallowed by the night.

And god, Dean wanted to say yes. He wanted to stay with the boy. He wanted to fall asleep to the sound of his breathing and wake with the smell of Sam surrounding him. He wanted to keep Sam home from school and skip work and just lay in bed with him.

And fuck, this was going into chick-flick territory way too fucking fast for Dean’s liking but sue him.

However Dean shook his head. This was already dangerous as it was, sneaking around with Sam in the dead of the night, spending hours with him in that diner everyday. Actually going inside Sam’s house where Gordon could walk in at any moment was just playing with fire.

“I… I can’t, Sam.” Dean choked out.

How was he supposed to hold his resolve when all he wanted to do was follow Sam?

Sam looked up at the darkened windows of his house and then back towards Dean. His hair was starting to curl around the base of his neck from where it was drying. He wanted to run his hands through it, straighten the curls with his fingers.

“He’s not home.” Sam said quickly. “Gordon. He doesn’t even live here. He lives on the other side of town. It’s just his dad and even he’s not home often. It’s just me most of the time and…”

“Kid, I can’t.” Dean cut him off. “I’ve got work in the morning and you… you’ve got school.”

“I can skip!” Sam shouted.

“No, you can’t. You need to go to school. You can’t miss.” And that was the end of the conversation. Sam ducked his head, already starting to look a little guilty for even suggesting that he should skip. Dean placed a finger under Sam’s chin, pulling his head back up and placed a kiss on his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

“Yeah.” Sam agreed, sounding just ever so slightly disappointed. 

He kissed Dean one more time, a desperate attempt to convince Dean to follow him inside but Dean swatted at Sam’s ass, telling him that he needed to get to sleep and Sam scurried off inside.

While Dean wanted to stay with Sam, the smile didn’t leave his face the entire way that he walked back home. He was happy. Happy that he had finally gotten a taste of Sam. And now he wasn’t sure how he was going to keep away from the kid. It was already hard enough.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean’s stomach dropped the moment that he stepped through the front door. The lamp that was in the corner that he was sure that he had turned off was on and there, sitting in his chair, was his father, staring after the front door.

Dean swallowed thickly, closing the door behind him, stepping further into the house.

“Hey, dad.” Dean greeting trying to keep the nervous out of his voice.

“Where have you been?” He asked, his tone leaving no room for Dean to try to avoid the question.

“I… uhh… I was called in for a few hours at the bar. They were slammed and understaffed. Someone had called in sick and they needed some more help.” Dean lied, hoping that his father would buy it.

But Dean never did have such luck.

“You know how I can’t stand lying, Dean. I thought that was the case but it seemed that you’ve been called in a lot recently and so I called up there this evening, asking for you and low and behold, you weren’t anywhere to be found. So I ask again, where were you?”

Dean hesitated and John took the opportunity that was presented to him.

“You were with that boy, weren’t you? That Wesson boy?”

Dean’s eyes widen. He thought that he was doing a good enough job to keep their relationship out of the public’s eyes and most importantly, away from his father. “How do you… know about him?”

“Just because I’m the town drunk doesn’t mean that I don’t hear things. When I went into town the other day, all I heard about was you dating this Wesson kid. The golden child. Supposed to go to some ivy league school. Be some big shot lawyer. You really do know how to pick them, don’t cha?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You really think that he’s going to give a shit about you when he moves out to California for college. You’re going to be nothing more than a distant memory to him. He’s going to find some girl there, settle down with her and forget all about you. You don’t deserve him. And I don’t know why you think that you do. He’s too good for you.”

Dean could feel the tears prickling in his eyes but he refused to let them fall.

“I’m not even going to mention that the kid isn’t even out of high school and that he’s a boy and if you think that’s okay in this household, you’ve got another thing comin for ya. I’m not going to have you smear the Winchester name with your sick, twisted, perverted love.”

“Dad…” Dean’s voice was small in his throat.

“If I find out that you’re seeing him anymore… I’ll make sure that he won’t want to see you. Understood?”

Dean ducked his head, looking down at the worn toes of his shoes. “Yes sir.” He muttered.

He waited until his father moved, getting up from his chair and stumbling into his room before Dean moved himself. He felt like he was on autopilot as he walked to his room. He had half the mind to sneak back out the window and take Sam up on that offer of staying with him for the night but he stayed in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Running away never sounded so great than it did at that moment. He wanted to do nothing more than escape back out into the darkness of the night and run back to Sam.

Sleep that night was not peaceful and when he woke the next morning, staring at the gray paint on his walls, he felt worse than he did the night before. His body ached with exhaustion and as much as he hated to admit, he woke with a headache because he had fallen asleep crying.

Just like the thirteen year old girl he was. Which only made him feel worse.

He sat up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed but still he only sat there, thinking about everything.

John was right, just like he always was. There was a reason why Sam always had his nose in those books reading things that Dean couldn't even imagine. He wasn’t going to just give up all of that; his bright future to stay behind in this small town where nothing ever happens. When the time came, he would pack up his school books and all of his belongings and hop a ride to California. Sure, there might be a few tears shed, on both parts but when Sam was old and gray with a gaggle of children around him, Dean would be nothing more than a distant memory, probably dead in a premature grave right along side his father.

He scoffed bitterly to himself. That was going to be his future, as pathetic as it sounded, he knew that to be the truth.

 _Truth hurts, don’t it, Winchester?_ Gordon’s voice seemed to ring in his ears.

 _Tried to tell, ya, but you never listen._ His father’s voice joined in. _You can’t live in a fantasy because when you wake up, it’ll only kill you._

 _Little fags don’t get happy endings._ Brady sneered at him. _It’s wrong and filthy and you got everything you deserved._

_You’re going to die all alone, Dean, because no one will ever love the disaster that you are._

_You should have been the one that died on the streets that night._

_You’re going to end up…_

_Everyone leaves you. Sam is…_

_He’s everything you’re not._

_Just forget him. He’s going to forget you._

All the voices were yelling in his head. Voices from the people that he knew. Voices of people that he didn’t. They filled his head, making it throb and he grabbed the side of his skull, curling up in on himself desperately trying to get the voices to stop.

And then they did. The voices just calmed and it was his father that was standing there, looking down on him with a scowl on his face.

 _You can’t give him up because you like pain. You can’t give him up and he’s going to kill you and you’re going to love every second of that death because only a coward dies at the hand of his lover._ John whispered in his mind, suddenly so calm, speaking as if it was the truth.

He released his head, the pounding behind his eyes starting to subside a little and drifted back to sleep.

It was the smell of bacon that woke him the second time. He laid there for a moment, trying to figure out where he was, why he was smelling bacon, waiting for the screaming match in his head to start back but the voices remained silent and he pulled himself from his bed.

John was in the kitchen, a spatula in his hand as he bent over the stove where the bacon that had pulled him from his sleep in the first place was cooking. On the counter, there was a cup of coffee that Dean was sure was laced with whiskey. The only time that John would ever cook was when he was good and drunk.

“Have a seat, Dean.” His father demanded, his voice rough in the silence that Dean craved but he complied anyway.

His father seemed calm which was another thing to add onto this whole situation that was completely abnormal. Dean stared at his father’s back, watching the way that he moved waiting for this calm to pass and for the storm to start.

John opened up one of the cabinets and pulled out a plate, holding it as he pulled the bacon up from the skillet and placing it down before turning to Dean. Instinctively Dean tensed, waiting for John to say something about the way that he just sat around and did nothing all day while John had to provide for his lazy ass. However, once again, what Dean expected didn’t happen. Instead John sat the plate down in the middle of the table and turned back around to walk over the counter and grabbed a coffee cup out of the cabinet.

“You still take your coffee black?” He asked, still facing the counter and Dean narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out who had taken control of his father’s body because Dean couldn’t remember the last time that he had been this calm.

“Y…yes sir.” He replied, body still stiff even when John handed him the cup and took a seat at the table across from him.

John wasn’t looking at him, instead he was looking at the bacon, jaw working as if he was trying to figure out how to speak.

“That boy, Sam, he makes you happy?” He voice was quiet, nearly inaudible.

Now Dean was on the defense, building up every wall that he could, staring at his father, body subconsciously leaning away from him. “Y…yeah.” Dean stuttered.

John’s shoulder’s slumped forward and he seemed to grow older in the poor lighting of the kitchen. That was just another thing that Dean was going to have to add to the ever growing list of what was wrong with this house. The electrical was one step away from not working at all.

“Your mother made me happy.” He spoke softly, still staring at the bacon. “You know, the first time I met her, she had knocked me right on my ass and ever since then, she kept knocking me on my ass. I was always chasing after her. That woman could never be still, always wanted to be on the go.” There was a long stretch of silence and Dean was still leaning as far away from John as his chair could permit, mind racing with reasons as to why his father was suddenly talking to him about his mother.

He could still remember when he was so young and still naive to the world and the pain of what it had to offer, he would ask his father where his mom went, when would she return home. John would always have a bottle in his hand, heavy circles under his eyes and he would turn to Dean with nothing but fury and rage. He learned very early on not to ask about his mother. It would only end in him not knowing anything and a lower self-esteem.

“You’re a lot like her, you know. She…” He trailed off, breaking the sentence to take a large gulp of his coffee, grimacing at the taste. “She would have been a lot more… understanding with all of this. With you and… Sam. She would have known what to say but you know, she’s not here and I’m left trying to fill in the blanks.” Another stretch of silence. “I know that you think that you love Sam or whatever but there’s no such thing as love. Trust me, son, when I tell you that the best thing to do is just to forget about him. You won’t be able to give him what he needs.”

“He doesn’t need anything.” Dean finally snapped. “Okay, dad? He doesn’t need anything. He told me that he wanted to be with me and I believe him. I’m sorry that you couldn’t have the perfect marriage with mom that you wanted but Sam’s not going to leave me like she did and I’m not going to leave him.”

John slammed his hand down on the table, making Dean jump and shrink back in between the walls that he had built up, whatever defiance he had felt slowly fading away.

“I am trying to help you out here, son! Why don’t you ever listen? A son that actually cared, would listen.” The calm resolve that had come over John to make bacon and fix him coffee had completely disappeared. “But I guess that’s another thing you just fuck up at.” John stood up from his seat abruptly. “Clean all of this shit up and you better get to work or you’re gonna be late. Last thing I need is for you to be written up.”

Dean didn’t look at John as he stalked out of the kitchen, the hot coffee in his mug burning his fingertips but he couldn’t feel it. In fact, he savored the burn. It was better than the aching in his chest.

Silently he rose, no longer hungry and regretted the moment that he threw away the rest of the bacon. That was probably going to come back and bite him in the ass later. John would come in looking for it and it would no longer be there and Dean would be called wasteful and ungrateful, always on the blunt edge of John’s fury and he probably deserved it.

Work offered him that safe, mindless sanctuary that he craved.

It was still probably a little too early for Sam to be at the diner. He had picked up a job at the library a week or so ago to have a little extra money (nerd) and that usually meant that he got to the diner a little later than normal. And Dean hated it because those damn books were stealing away precious moments from him. Precious moments that he craved.

It surprised him to see that Sam was already in the back booth, a pen in one hand, his head resting on his fist as he looked over some book or paperwork or whatever. There was no telling what the kid was working on.

The little bell rung overhead as Dean walked in through the door and Sam’s head popped up and an instant later he was grinning like a fucking mad man.

Sam was practically buzzing in his seat as Dean walked closer to him and while the excitement made his heart flutter (because he couldn’t remember the last time that someone looked at him like that), it still felt like a punch to the gut. Sam was looking at Dean like he was the world, like everything revolved around him when it was quite the opposite. Sam was the one with the magnetic pull that made the world turn and Dean was the one that had been caught up in those waves.

Sam reached out, grabbing a hold of Dean’s jacket, nearly pulling him across the booth to pull him into a kiss. It was short and messy and wanting and Dean let his mind wander to some place where he could actually have something like this.

He had to brace himself against the table and the backrest to keep from completely falling over into Sam’s lap.

“Shit kid, give a man a moment before you attack him.” Dean chuckled, the sound almost foreign to his ears from the day that he had but that beautiful layer of blush fanned out across Sam’s face.

Distantly, his father’s voice made it’s way to the front of Dean’s mind, his voice booming through his head, threats that aren't so harmless of what he would do if Dean kept seeing Sam but he pushed all of it away. He had to. His father wouldn’t keep this from him. He couldn’t. Dean’s heart skipped a beat at the blatant thought of defiance.

He’d never done that before. Sneak behind his father’s back after he made it clear that he didn’t want Dean to do something. He was always the good and obedient son that John always wanted and yet he ran into this boy and he was suddenly prepared to just throw caution to the wind, completely disrespect his father and the rules that he had implemented all for Sam. All for this siren that wasn’t even aware of the spell that he had cast.

“You’re sure excited.” Dean teased, bumping Sam lightly with his shoulder, reaching out across the table to pick up a fry that was still warm and is it even possible to blush any harder? Sam’s ears were turning red,

“Well… I missed you.” Sam admitted, mumbling as he turned his gaze away from Dean to look somewhere else. “And I’m happy to see you…” The sentence hung there like Sam wanted to say something more.

“I’m happy to see you but I was worried that you were going to run again… like you did last time.”

“Happy to see more or do you just want another pool date?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, looking at Sam’s profile.

Sam gasped, eyes widening as he suddenly looked around the diner to see if anyone had over heard Dean because sometimes Dean was really fucking loud and Sam was almost certain that he was loud on purpose. However there was no one in the diner to over hear Dean, much to Sam’s relief and he turned to hit Dean on the shoulder. “Dean!” He squealed.

And this time Dean really did laugh. A sound that started deep in his chest that bubbled off his tongue and he couldn’t contain it. Not even if he wanted too. The innocence that was still right underneath the surface of his skin was too fucking adorable.

And Dean Winchester didn’t think anything was adorable, okay? He didn’t but Sam… well Sam was the exception… because, you know, there’s always exceptions to the rule.

“Okay, okay.” Dean said between breaths and Sam hit him again on principal alone, dammit. “You just missed me. Got it. No innuendo in there.”

“Yeah, jerk.” Sam muttered.

“Whatever, bitch.” And at that they both fell into a heap of laughter.

The sound of them together, laughing and smiling, Dean’s arm haphazardly tossed around Sam’s shoulders were like music to anyone’s ear if anyone were to stop and actually listen to it.

But there was someone listening to it. Ellen stood in the doorway leading to the kitchen, unable to keep her smile off her face.

She had seen her fair share of girls Dean had taken on dates, and not once did she ever see him like this. That smile that lit up his entire face, laugh until it nearly hurt. She never saw him seem completely carefree, constantly on the defense, looking over his shoulder. She hadn’t seen him looking like a child that didn’t carry the weight of the world since he was actually a small child who still believed in childish things like Santa and that his mother would come home.

Sam was the thing that she had been praying for. The thing that would come down and give Dean the freedom that he deserved and it was about damn time. That boy had given up so much. He had given up his education, his future, to provide for his father. He had given up everything just to skate by and it wasn’t fair. After the crash, nothing had ever really been the same for him and so it was about damn time that the universe give something back.

It’s funny how the universe works sometimes. Yeah, it gave him something. It gave him a boy with hazel eyes and shaggy brown hair with a brain that was starved for learning. It had given him everything that he could ever want except for the fact that people would try to keep them apart just for the simple fact of genetics.

Ellen sighed, pushing herself off the doorframe to head back into the kitchen, her head bent with a sad smile on her face.

Dean would never have it easy. It just wasn’t in his blood to have things easy. He was going to have to fight and climb and struggle and crawl to keep the things that he wanted.

Dean finally sobered up enough to stop laughing and he turned his attention to the open notebook that was on the table, Sam’s messy handwriting covering the white surface of the pages and squinted at it trying to figure out what Sam was working on.

Sam was always working on something. Always, scribbling down notes or finishing up homework except this… this didn’t look like homework. It almost looked like a form… an application of some sorts. Maybe he was looking for a better job. One that didn’t smell like dust and rotting ink. “Whatcha working on today?”

It was as if something had shocked Sam. He jerked forward, grabbing the open notebook and quickly shutting it before closing a few more of his textbooks and placing them on top of the notebook. “Nothing now.” He said almost too cheerfully and when Dean was about to question him about the abrupt kill up, say something along the lines of it was pretty damn obvious that Sam wasn’t working on ‘nothing’, Sam beat him to the punch, keeping Dean silent. “I wanna go back to the races.” He said almost breathless.

The small smile that was still on Dean’s face all but fell. He clenched his jaw together, moving his arm from around Sam, suddenly interested in the red and white checkered table top. “I don’t… Sam, I don’t think that’s such a great idea.” He mumbled.

Sam frowned, hands falling away from the books. “Why?” There was a beat of silence before Sam turned his body towards Dean, almost forcing him to been seen. “Is it because of me? Because you don’t think that I liked it? I did like it, Dean. I enjoyed it a lot actually!” He smiled. “I had a ton of fun and I want to go…”

“Sam!” Dean exclaimed and Sam shrieked back against the seat. “It’s not that, alright.” He flicked off a piece of salt that was on top of the table. “It’s just… it’s a dangerous place and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’ll watch out for myself. I won’t go onto the road when there’s cars racing. I mean, I didn’t get hurt the last time you took me and if you don’t want me to be in the car with you, I could… I could wait with… um… I could wait with, Benny!”

Oh, yeah, because that would be a grand idea. Leave the kid with someone who would love to embarrass the shit out of Dean with all the foolish stories that he had. That was real smart.

“Sam, no.” He took a deep breath. “It has nothing to do with you, alright. It’s just… accidents can happen and I don’t… I’m not going to let you get hurt. Alright?” Then Dean frowned, looking back at Sam’s closed notebook. “Now, what were you working on before you tried to change subject?”

“It’s nothing.” Sam said with a tight smile. “I promise.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Sam leaned back in the seat, acting like he was relaxed now that Dean seemed to drop the subject but the kid should really know better. A couple moments passed before Dean reached out and grabbed ahold of the notebook. Before Sam really had time to react, Dean already had the notebook in his hands, opening it up to what Sam was working on.

Almost immediately, Dean’s face fell and his heart started to thud against his ribcage, threatening to explode.

“I can… I can explain, Dean.” Sam whispered, looking down at the open notebook and then back up at Dean. “It’s not a promise that I’m going anywhere, it’s just… my teachers thought that it was a good idea for me to start applying, you know? The earlier I can get my name out there… the better chance I have.”

College applications. That’s what Sam was filling out. College applications.

Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat and yet it didn’t go away. Sam was applying for college, to Stanford it looked like, and of course he would get accepted because anyone would be stupid not to take Sam.

Sam was smart and bright and absolutely perfect and he was going to go to college.

“Will you… will you say something, Dean?” Sam begged, his voice nearly swallowed in the silence that had fallen over the two of them and Dean finally tore his eyes away from the paper to look at Sam who was staring down at his lap, wringing his fingers together.

He shouldn’t… he shouldn’t look like that, scared, guilty, nervous. God, Dean was the one that was causing this, wasn’t he? He was making Sam think that he was…

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Dean asked, the lump still in his throat but it was smaller now. It wasn’t constricting his airways and he could actually breathe.

“I didn’t want you to be mad at me.” Sam whispered.

“Mad at you?” Dean echoed. “Sam, I could never be mad at you for something like this.” Sam looked up at Dean and Dean put the notebook back down on the table, grabbing Sam by the hips to pull him even closer. “Sam, this is awesome.”

“Really?”

“Of course!” Dean beamed and it really was. It was awesome because Sam was going to get out of this town. He had a chance, he had the opportunity to do something with his life and he was going to get out. Sam deserved this. He needed to go somewhere where he could fit in, where he wasn’t so different. He needed to go somewhere where he could thrive. “I would never be mad at you for applying to college.”

Sam was looking at him with tears in his eyes now and the lump in Dean’s throat only seemed to grow. Yeah, Sam was going to get out of this town and leave Dean behind stuck in the mud and it would be just as his father had predicted.

Dean was a sucker for pain.

“I love you!” Sam blurted out as he jumped forward, hands grabbing at Dean, pulling Dean down to him to kiss him. It was full of desperation and thankfulness and Sam was muttering out thank you every few seconds against Dean’s lips.

Sam kept grabbing handfuls of Dean’s jacket, trying to pull Dean even closer to him. Their teeth bumped up against each other, their mouths wide and wanting. Sam’s hands were in Dean’s hair, grabbing and pulling at it. Dean had his hands on Sam’s hips, fingers pressing in hard enough that he was sure that he was going to leave marks behind.

After struggling to get closer, Sam decided that he was going to throw his leg over Dean’s waist, wiggling his body in between Dean and the table. There was barely any room but Sam was so goddamn skinny that he fit. Now the two boys were pressed up against each other, so impossibly close. Sam’s hands were still in Dean’s hair, getting buried and Dean was now sliding his hands up Sam’s back, slipping underneath his shirt.

He could feel Sam’s spine as Sam arched closer to him, moving his hips, creating some kind of friction.

And fuck, Dean couldn’t help from repeating the movement. Sam was intoxicating and he could forget, for just a moment, that they were in a goddamn diner where literally anyone could walk in through those doors and see them.

“You two better not be having sex in my restaurant. I’m sure as hell ain’t cleaning that up.” Ellen’s annoyed voice jerked the two boys apart.

Sam quickly untangled himself from Dean and plopped back down in his seat next to Dean.

Dean blushed, actually blushed as he pulled his shirt out from his body, trying to cover up his lap, hoping that Ellen didn’t see it.

“We’re… we’re not.” Dean squeaked out.

“Mhmm… sure.” Then she placed the two milkshakes that she was holding down on the table, careful to avoid the mess that Sam had made. “Just don’t let me catch you again, alright?”

“Yes ma’am.” Sam replied, still looking down at his lap.

They both waited until Ellen disappeared back into the kitchen before either one of them dared to move towards the milkshakes. The rest of the evening passed rather uneventfully. They sat in a comfortable (and somewhat awkward) silence, sipping on what Ellen had brought out. Sam worked a little more on the application that he was in the process of filling out, sighing every now and then.

Dean was still hard when they had left the diner, finally deciding to call it a night. They kissed briefly outside and Dean had to pull away before it turned into something so much more.

That night, Dean took care of what he wasn’t to take care of in the diner to the thoughts of Sam, not knowing that across town, Sam was doing the same thing.

The next morning, he was able to slip out of the house before his father caught him, ruining the good mood that he was in. He couldn’t wait for the work day to end, to get back to the diner, to see Sam again, minus the fucking intense making out because he wasn’t sure if he would be able to control himself if Sam went after him like that again.

He would be the only one working at the garage today. The owner, Bobby Singer, seemed to believe that Dean was competent enough to run the place (even though Dean had been running the place pretty much alone for nearly a year now) and honestly Dean craved the silence. The not so isolation that he put himself in when he was working under the hood of a car.

He was on his back, laying under some truck, checking the brake lines, when there was a body that all of the sudden block the light. Dean groaned, leaning his head back for a moment before pulling himself out, fully prepared to tell Bobby that he was okay, everything was going fine, he didn’t have to freak out so much, when the words were sucked out of his mouth.

“Sam! What are you doing here?” Dean hissed, putting down the wrench that he had in his hand, all the while looking around the garage to make sure that no one was in there even though he knew fully well that there wasn’t. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

The tips of Sam’s ears turned red. “Yeah but it’s lunchtime and they won’t know that I’m gone.”

“Sam…” Dean muttered, hating the way that he sounded like a scowled parent but dammit. Sam couldn’t just sneak off campus to come see him. No matter how happy that made him. “If you get caught…”

If they got caught, if someone saw them, reported it back to Gordon, if it got back to his father… he shuddered.

“I’m not going to get caught!” Sam exclaimed. “I’ve got someone covering for me. They won’t find out and besides, if they do, it won’t matter. My teachers won’t care. I know the stuff anyway.”

“But… you can’t sneak out.” Why was he fighting this?

“I just wanted to see you.”

“And you would have. This evening. At the diner. Just like every other night.” Dean reasoned. Yeah, they would have seen each other that evening and it would have given Dean enough time to prepare himself for another night sitting that close to Sam while he had to keep his hands to himself.

But now, with the knowledge that no one was going to oversee them, his fingers itched to touch Sam.

“I know.” Sam was blushing hard now. “I just couldn’t wait. I really wanted to see you.”

“I missed you too, Sam but you…” Sam finally cut him off, closing the small gap between the two of them. Dean melted against Sam’s body, every argument that he had just flying out of his head.

There was a short gasp of surprise from Dean as Sam suddenly shoved Dean up against the truck that he was working on, a lot stronger than Dean would have pegged him for.  Sam was powerful, underneath those bony limbs was nothing but strength and it kept Dean there, pinned up against the truck.

Sam was still kissing him, taking control of Dean’s mouth, doing absolutely sinful things with his tongue and Dean briefly wondered what happened to that shy little boy who blushed at the thought of kissing him and where this one was saved. He loved that Sam but this one, it was going to be the absolute death of him.

Sam pulled away, chest heaving, lips swollen with the kiss that he just stole from Dean, nothing but lust and want burning in his eyes. Dean’s legs shook.

Dean was about to open his mouth, ask what had suddenly come over Sam. Why he skipped school to come and kiss him like that (not that he was complaining, it was just, he wanted to know, so you know, he could have it happen again) when Sam stepped in between his legs, sinking to his knees, not even caring about the oil and grease that stained the floor.

Dean’s breathing hitched.

Sam wasn’t… he wasn’t about to do what he thought Sam was about to do. But then Sam mouthed at his crotch, fingers fumbling with his belt. And God, Sam was staring right up at him. Somewhere, distantly, in the back of Dean’s mind he knew that he needed to push Sam away but with Sam looking at him like that, eyes wide with an innocence that he didn’t have, Dean kept Sam there on his knees in front of him.

Sam slowly popped open the button, pulling the zipper down, his fingers hooked in the waistband as he pulled Dean’s jeans down to rest around his ankles. Sam’s tongue darted out to wet his lips as he pulled down Dean’s boxers, eyes widening in approval. Yeah, he’d seen Dean’s cock back at that pool nights ago but still, it was here right in front of him, wide and long and hard for him.

Dean bucked forward, his stomach muscles clenching as Sam wrapped his bony hand around him, pumping him a few times before pressing his lips against the head of his cock, smearing the pre-cum along his tongue. Dean sounded like he had been punched.

“Shit… fuck, Sammy.” Dean rasped, open hand in Sam’s hair, another spread against the side of the truck, trying to keep him grounded.

Sam wrapped his lips around Dean before hollowing his cheeks, taking Dean in as far as his mouth would allow, Dean’s cock hitting the back of his throat. He ignored his gag reflex as he swallowed around Dean and Dean threw his head back.

This was dangerous. So incredibly dangerous. The front door wasn’t locked. Anyone could walk in with car trouble and they would walk in and see his dick shoved into the mouth of some minor and that would be it for Dean. But it sent a thrill through his body knowing just how dangerous this was.

Things are always better when you’re not supposed to have them, right?

Sam wasn’t experienced. He was sloppy and while he had his hand wrapped around what he couldn’t take in his mouth, it was still messy but fuck, it was all that Dean could take.

It was the determination in Sam’s eyes and the way that he wouldn’t dare look anywhere else that had Dean coming down his throat much faster than he carried to admit and Sam lapped it down, keeping Dean in his mouth until he went soft.

When Dean could actually think of something other than the fact that Sam looked absolutely delicious on his knees with streaks of grease on his face from Dean’s hands, he pulled Sam up to his feet, pulling him in for another, hard kiss, more than willing to repay the favor except when Dean reached out to palm Sam through his jeans, he felt that Sam was no longer hard and there was a wet spot on the front of his khaki’s.

Dean groaned again at the thought that Sam had come by just having Dean down his throat.

Except Sam didn’t seem to be sated enough. He was still attacking Dean’s mouth with a feverish passion, just barely rutting up against his bare thigh and fuck, the kid was already starting to get hard again.

Dean had to physically push Sam away from his body, get some air to breath that didn’t smell like Sam and he thought that Sam would take the hint and just slow down for a moment but Sam took it up as a challenge. He took another step towards Dean, kissing him hard again and Dean’s hands slipped from Sam’s body.

“I want you, Dean.” Sam muttered in between kisses. “Please.” He begged. “I want… I need…”

“Sam…” Dean hands were back up around Sam’s shoulders. “Sam, you’ve gotta… Man, you’ve gotta stop.” And with the little strength that he had left, he pushed away away just a fraction of an inch again and kept him there. “Not right now, Sam.”

Sam whined. “Please… I just…”

“I know, kid, I do too but not right now. I told you. Eighteen. You’ve gotta be eighteen.” Dean wasn’t going to be able to last until Sam turned eighteen, not if Sam kept surprising him like this.

“But I’m almost eighteen!” Sam whined.

Dean locked his jaw and shook his head. “Not right now, Sam. When you’re older, I promise, but not right now.”

Sam frowned, crossing his arms across his bony chest, looking at Dean through those eyes that could cut steel. “You better. You better keep your promise, Winchester.” And suddenly Dean felt like he was the younger one.

Then Sam kissed him once more and turned on his heels to walk out of garage but Dean pulled up his jeans and closed his hand around Sam’s upper arm.

“You can’t go back to school like that.” Dean said, pointing to Sam's pants and how there were now black stains on the knees and not to mention the wet spot. Dean dragged Sam towards the back room where Dean kept a spare set of clothes. He had a pair of black sweatpants shoved into the back of his locker and he handed those towards Sam.

He kissed Sam on the top of his head, holding him against his body for the briefest of seconds before releasing him. “Thank you, for that. I’ll see you tonight.” And then he walked out of the room, leaving Sam to his own devices and got back to work underneath the truck, considerably happier than he was before Sam’s unexpected visit.


	6. Chapter 6

When he got to the diner that evening, Sam was once again in the booth, practically glowing and well, what can Dean say. He was practically glowing too.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Dean greeted as he slid in next to Sam.

Sam looked up from the application that he was still working on, this time not rushing to hide it. “I got off early.” He replied. “But… uhh… tomorrow I work late. So, I probably won’t be here tomorrow.”

Dean gasped dramatically. “What will I ever do without seeing your pretty face?” He teased and Sam just rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.” Sam mumbled, turning his attention back to what he was working on.

Ellen brought out the two milkshakes and a plate nearly overflowing with fries and Dean didn’t realize how hungry he was until he smelled the deep fried carbohydrates and nearly inhaled them. Sam watched him in half disgust, half amusement, his face pulled up into a grimace as Dean stuffed his face, drinking from the milkshake every couple bites.

“You’re acting like you haven’t eaten anything all day.” Sam finally said when Dean wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, leaning back in the seat.

“That’s cause I haven’t.” Dean answered back truthfully.

He usually didn’t eat during the day and it wasn’t because of lack of wanting. It’s just he didn’t have any extra food to spare. They barely had enough as it was and that’s with Dean only eating breakfast a couple of days a week and John eating barely anything at each meal. Back when Jo was still in high school, Ellen would have her drop off food at the garage for Dean to have something for lunch but ever since she went to Vegas, those meals had come to a stop.

“Oh.” Sam replied in a small voice, his embarrassment turning the tip of his ears red. “I didn’t…”

“It’s fine, kid.” Dean cut Sam off, not wanting to hear his sympathy and besides, it was fine. He ate what he could, when he could and it was fine.

Sam nodded once before ducking his head again. There was a small frown on his face and he was chewing on his bottom lip. Dean sighed as he relaxed deeper into the seat. There was no doubt that Sam was trying to think up of some way to make up for his seemingly insensitive comment and he wasn’t just going to drop it like Dean wanted.

He didn’t need pity and he most certainly didn’t need sympathy. Lord knows he gets enough of that from the people who stop by the garage. At least, those who don’t blame him for the wreck.

Sam slowly sipped on his milkshake, his lips wrapped loosely around the straw as he worked now on homework, the application in Dean’s hands as he reads through it. Checking for what he could, underlining things that didn’t exactly flow nicely with the next sentence.

And honestly, Dean couldn’t find anything wrong with the essays that Sam had written. If he were the college admission board, he would choose Sam in a heartbeat. The kid was damn near perfect.

Sam blushed when Dean had said that, taking the application and essay back, shoving it into his notebook, muttering that Dean probably said that to everyone.

When sleep was pulling at the corner of Sam’s eyes, threatening to take him under, Dean called it a night, pulling Sam in for a small kiss and then turned to help Ellen with the dishes.

Sam was waiting by the door, his backpack slung up over his shoulder, clinging onto the strap. He was looking down at his worn converse, face still a light shade of pink.

“Something on your mind, kid?” Dean asked as he threw an arm of Sam’s shoulders, leading them out of the diner.

Sam looked up at Dean before he quickly turned his gaze elsewhere. “It’s… uhhh… I was just… I was wondering if you wanted…” He stumbled over his words, trying to piece together a sentence. “I just… wanted you to come over tonight.” Sam spit out quickly before he could convince himself that it was a bad idea to offer up the invitation.

That’s not what Dean was expecting Sam to ask him about but he wouldn’t deny the fact that his heart did skip a beat when Sam asked.

“I mean just to sleep, you know.” He paused and then groaned. “Like sleep sleep not ‘sleep’ sleep. I just…”

Dean cut him off with a kiss. “You talk too much, kid.” And despite that it was probably an awful idea to say yes, he found himself nodding his head. He was full of good food and Sam was still wearing his sweatpants (which completely swallowed Sam’s small frame, by the way) and his day had started off pretty good so why not end it the same.

“Really?” Sam was beaming, the red neon lights that were casting a red glow on his skin only made him seem to shine even brighter.

“Yeah.” Dean replied with a cheeky smile and lead Sam over to the Impala where it was parked out front.

It wasn’t a long drive to Sam’s house and when he pulled up front, all the lights were shut off, the house dark and barren and offering Dean a secret refuge. Dean wanted to park somewhere else, somewhere down the street to where it wasn’t so obvious that he was parked out front of Sam Wesson’s house but Sam wasn’t having any of it. He was tired and didn’t want to walk anymore and all he wanted to do was sleep knowing that Dean was pressed up against him.

Dean felt like a stranger in the house, the front porch much too large for him to be on, the lights that didn’t flicker when Sam turned them on. The fact that it was actually warm inside and he didn’t have to sleep under seven blankets to keep from freezing to death.

Dean allowed himself to be pulled by Sam, let the kid show him where everything was (even offered him something to eat when they stopped by the kitchen but Dean politely denied) and then Dean followed Sam up the stairs to his room.

There wasn’t much talking between the two boys, Dean felt like it wasn’t his place to speak inside this place that he didn’t belong and Sam felt as if he spoke, he would spook Dean and Dean would suddenly run.

It was awkward at first. Dean didn’t want to shed anything more than his boots and jacket, not wanting to make Sam uncomfortable but when Sam slipped out of everything but those sweatpants and looked at Dean with an eyebrow raised at what he was still wearing, Dean decided to strip down to his boxers.

Sam got into bed first and once again, Dean stood at the edge looking down at the mattress uncertain.

“Will you hurry up and get in bed please?” Sam finally spoke, irritation evident and he grabbed Dean by the wrist to pull him down. After that Dean climbed into bed willingly.

Sam immediately pressed himself flush against Dean’s side, arms wrapped around his bare stomach, head resting on his chest and he nearly fell asleep the moment he closed his head.

Dean, on the other hand, didn’t get much sleep that night, too wrapped up in the thought that this was Sam next to him and he was in a house that he knew his father wasn’t in and if he wanted something to eat, he could go to the fridge and get something. It was warm and the bed wasn’t lumpy and he had this beautiful boy latched onto him.

It was all so much and it was all so perfect and while he didn’t get much sleep that night, he felt like he had the best sleep he’s ever had when they had to get up the next morning.

The morning was somewhat of a rush. They had slept through the alarm and when Sam jerked awake, he was nearly all the way on top of Dean, limbs spread out all over him, covering him like a blanket and that’s how Dean got woken up by an elbow to the chest.

Sam was a ball of energy in the morning. He didn’t settle anywhere for long, rushing from this side of the room to pick up this book and then to the other side of the room to pick up another book. Dean sniffed as he sat up, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands as he sat on the edge of the bed watching Sam.

When Sam stopped for just a second, he ran a hand through his hair before sighing. “I’ve gotta take a quick shower. Don’t leave… alright. I promise I won’t take long.”

“Okay.” Dean smiled back and then Sam grabbed a fresh pair of clothes, rushing down the hall to the bathroom.

In all honesty, it would have been best if Dean had just left then. If he had left a note saying that he had to get to the garage and just left. The less time that he spent in this house, the better. There was a nagging thought in the back of his head that he shouldn’t have left the Impala parked out front. It was even more dangerous for it to be out there now that it was the morning. Any number of Sam’s friends could drive by, or anyone for that matter, and one look at the car and they would know who it was. Dean was the only one in town that drove a car like that.

Except he pushed that fear away. No one was going to find him. He was going to be alright and he pulled himself from the bed, making his way downstairs to the kitchen. His stomach growled with the prospect of food. 

There was a fleeting moment of guilt as he opened up the cabinets, trying to take stock of what exactly Sam had but Sam had offered it to him. And besides, it wasn’t really stealing if he was going to make pancakes for the both of them.

Sam came rushing into the kitchen not ten minutes after Dean started breakfast, his hair still wet from the shower, looking panicked.

“I thought you left.” He said in a rushed whisper.

“Nope.” Dean replied, popping the ‘p’ as he turned back to the stove to flip the last few pancakes. “I thought that I would make you some breakfast. I don’t know about you but I’m starving. Help yourself.” Dean said, pointing to the plate that was on the counter already filled.

And Sam did. He grabbed another plate, grabbing several pancakes before covering it in butter and syrup, sitting down at the breakfast island in the middle of the kitchen. He moaned around the fork after the first bite, sending his compliments to the chef before completely digging into the breakfast.

Dean cleaned up the skillet that he was cooking out of before fixing himself a plate and joined Sam, sitting right next to him.

“These are so good, Dean.” Sam said around a mouthful of food.

“Yeah?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah.” Sam repeated with a smile. “I haven’t had pancakes in forever.” Somewhere in the background, a grandfather clock chimed and Sam dropped his fork, checking the clock on the far wall. “Shit.” He muttered. “Your damn pancakes are going to make me late for class.”

He already was late but Dean wasn’t going to mention that.

“Do you need a ride to school?” Dean asked as he took the now empty plate that was in front of Sam, walking it over to the sink, turning the tap on.

“I usually walk but… uhhh… I wouldn’t mind a ride.”

“Alright. Just give me a moment to clean up.”

Sam ran back upstairs to his room to grab his backpack and when he came back down to the kitchen, Dean was still hunched over the sink, scrubbing at the plate. His mind was racing through the last few hours, how he actually ended up at Sam’s house, what went right in the universe to get this to happen.

He’s only going to leave you, Dean. That nagging voice in the back of his head whispered. Dean scrubbed harder at the plate. Once he learns about you, see all the dirty little crevices, he’s going to hate you, be disgusted with you.

Shut up. He yelled back at those voices. Just shut up.

And for once they did. They fell silent and while he welcomed the silence, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He was wrapped up in his thoughts, the feeling of an actually full stomach and food that was made with milk that wasn’t slightly soured and he didn’t hear Sam coming up behind him.

Sam reached out, wrapping his hand around Dean’s shoulder and Dean immediately dropped the plate that was in his hand, jerking around, heart thudding through his chest, already on the defense. Sam had taken a step back, his hands now up in the air to show that he was completely defenseless, that he was of no threat to Dean.

“Shit, Sam, you scared me.” Dean breathed, dropping his shoulders, trying to get rid of the memory that was trying to surface in his brain of the number of times that he felt rough fingers on his shoulder coming out of nowhere.

The look on Sam’s face told Dean that Sam didn’t quite believe what he was saying. That reaction was more than just a simple scare but he didn’t push it.

Dean turned back to the sink just for the simple excuse of not having to look at Sam’s questioning stare and finished washing the plate that he was working on, purposely going slow to calm his racing heart and after several tense moments and the only thing that he could hear was the blood rushing past his ears, Dean turned back to Sam, who was still standing in the same spot that he was, waiting for Dean to move before he moved himself.

“You ready?” Dean’s voice was tight.

“Yeah.” Sam smiled, trying to keep the mood light around them but it was tight. Dean still looked so tense, so on edge and all he did was touch his shoulder. He took a tentative step forward, watching how Dean was going the react. He didn’t flinch this time, which Sam took for a good sign but he also didn’t move until Sam was past him.

Dean followed Sam out of the house and Sam ducked into the front seat. All the hair on his body still seemed to be standing up on end. He was waiting for something, bracing his body against an attack that he was sure to come.

By the time that he started the car, his heart still hadn’t slowed, beating behind his rib cage like a caged bird. His hands were on the steering wheel and yet he couldn’t seem to move them, couldn’t seem to be able to start the car. Couldn’t seem to be able to anything than breathe.

Sam turned in his seat, turning to face Dean, watching him with worried eyes.

He’s slow this time when he reaches out to touch Dean. Slow and cautious almost as if he were approaching a wild animal. But that’s what Dean was, wasn’t he? A beautiful, wild caged animal who was fighting for every lungful of air? Sam called out Dean’s name softly before he placed his hand on his knee.

Dean flinched again, just barely this time, before snapping out of whatever he was in.

Dean turned to look at Sam, jaw tight, eyes wide but he looked aware now. More aware than he was just moments ago. He looked like he was actually seeing and not just going through the motions. “I’m fine.” He muttered as he started the car. “I’m fine.” He repeated.

They both knew it was a lie.

Sam didn’t once peel his eyes from Dean, wanting to catch every tick of his jaw, wanting to watch the moment that the anxiousness left his body however it never did. His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, eyes trained solely on the road and while he was seeing, he looked moments from death. He looked to be moments from just jerking the wheel to the side, sending the car spiraling out of control.

And the thought of that should have scared Sam, should have fucking terrified him. Except the thing that terrified him wasn’t the thought that Dean could end it all right here, it was the fact that he found that somewhat comforting.

For all his life he never thought that he would find someone he would love, much less someone that would love him back. He was always that kid that bounced around schools, around the country, always with the smart brain but never the one with a stable home. And then by pure chance, by nothing but luck he stumbled upon this man that was so much more than his looks and the leather and the cigarettes. He was a man that was haunted, had ghost stories playing the back of his head, struggled everyday for a breath of air and yet he could still somehow manage a smile. He still woke up in the morning and faced whatever demon he had to face head on and never complained when it cut him down.

Sam found it comforting that if Dean were to just suddenly jerk the wheel on his way to school that he would die next to a warrior that had finally be shot down in battle.

He found it comforting that he would die next to the man that he loved.

Dean pulled up to the front of the school, still holding on tightly to the wheel and turned to meet Sam’s waiting gaze.

“I’m fine.” He mumbled again and Sam reached out across the seat, his hands nothing but a feather of a touch on Dean’s jaw as he leaned over to kiss him, short and brief and everything that Dean needed in that moment.

“I know.” Sam replied, smiling as he pulled away because Dean was speaking the truth. He was as fine as he was ever going to be. The he grabbed his bag that was by his feet and opened the car door.

“I would say I’ll see you tonight but since you’ve got a shift at the library, I guess, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Dean said through a plastered on smile and Sam wished that he had the right kind of tools to break through that fake smile. But Sam knew that his fingers would bleed before he got through that wall.

“I’ll see what I can do.” And with that, with one more fleeting touch, Sam disappeared into the building where Dean not only realized his dreams but also where they were crushed.

Dean watched Sam hoist his backpack higher up on his shoulder, sitting there for just a moment before taking a shaky breath, letting his body have just one short second before he had to close himself up again for work.

Bobby was already at the garage by the time that Dean pulled around back. However, when Dean took inventory of what had to be done for the day, Bobby didn’t scold him for being late like Dean thought he was going to. Instead, Bobby told him what had to be finished first and then went back to whatever task he was working on before Dean showed up.

You see, Bobby was like that. He wasn’t afraid to tan your ass for any stupid mistake that you do, he’ll call you out on it quicker than anyone but he also knew when to just leave things be. Besides, it wasn’t really like Dean to show up late.

As Dean in front of the car that needed something in the transmission fixed, he shook out his hands, trying to loosen the muscles in his body, get them to relax. except they never did. Every small sound seemed to make him flinch. He was on edge, forgot to do the simple things that he knew how to do.

It was sometime around lunch that Bobby called Dean into his office. Dean sat down in the chair on the other side of Bobby’s desk, his leg bouncing up and down, physically unable to calm his nerves.

“You on drugs, boy?” Bobby asked after several long moments of just studying Dean’s face and that got Dean to stop bouncing his leg.

“What? No, of course not. Why would you thin…”

Bobby cut him off. “I’m asking the questions here. You know that I can’t keep you employed here if you are on drugs, right?” Dean nodded, still wondering what he could have done that made Bobby believe that he was on something. “I’ve just been worried about you. You’ve seemed to be strung out lately. I know that everything isn’t peachy with John…”

“Bobby. I’m fine.” Dean snapped. “There’s nothing going on at home and I’m not on drugs. Everything is fine. I’m fine.” Dean made a move to stand up.

“Boy, sit your ass back down. I’m not done talking with you.” Dean settled back down into the chair. “I only ask this because you haven’t been acting like yourself lately. You’re jumpy, on edge. You hardly look like you’ve been sleeping.”

“Bobby, I promise, I’m not on drugs.”

“Okay, if it’s not drugs then what is it? You seeing someone? Some girl that you’ve managed to swoon.”

“It’s not a girl.” Dean muttered.

Bobby got silent then, really silent and Dean dropped his eyes to the dirt and grease that were caked underneath his fingernails. He wanted to shrink, escape Bobby’s gaze.

“Oh.” Bobby said. His chair creaked as he leaned back in it. Still Dean didn’t look up at him. “Does your dad know about this… about him?”

“Please, Bobby, please don’t tell him!” Dean blurted out as he looked back up at Bobby.

Everything seemed to click into place for Bobby. “So that’s why you’ve been…” Bobby nodded once to himself. Yeah, it all seemed to make sense to him now. The way that Dean had been acting lately. The way that he was always looking over his shoulder. Showing up to work hours before his shift actually starts. It was all an attempt to keep whatever he had hidden from his father. “Does anyone else know?”

Dean slinked back against the chair, his limbs feeling like they weighed a million pounds. He didn’t know how many people actually knew. His mind raced over the past few months that he had been with Sam and he wasn’t sure who all had seen them and who hadn’t.

“I don’t really know.” Dean shrugged. “I mean, people at the races kinda know, I guess and… uhhh… Ellen knows but I’m not sure about anyone else.”

Bobby was quiet for another minute and Dean hated to be on the other end of his scrutinizing gaze. “Do you think that anyone would try to tell John about your relationship with that boy?”

“No, I mean… Dad already has a faint idea that I’ve been with Sam but ever since he’s told me to stay away from Sam, I’ve been careful.” Yeah, so fucking careful that you actually spent the night at his house. “But… “ His stomach dropped once more. “Gordon… He… I wouldn’t put it past him to do something like that.”

“Gordon? You’re still running around with that boy? After what he accused you of?”

“I’m not still running around with him. No! It’s just that he happens to be Sam’s legal guardian until Sam turns eighteen.”

Bobby laughed. A loud, unamused sound that had Dean wanting to just disappear. “His guardian? You really want Gordon to hate you even more than he already does? Is this all to get back at him or something?”

“Of course not! If I had it my way, I would steer clear of Sam but…” He trailed off.

“But what?”

Yeah, Winchester. But what? Why can’t you just realize that he’s so fucking bad for you and all you’re doing is giving Gordon more ammunition to shoot your way.

“I can’t.” Because Sam had his own magnetic pull and Dean had gotten stuck in it and there was no way that he was ever going to be able to escape now. Not even with a million demons breathing down his back.

Bobby didn’t say much after that declaration. He looked Dean over once more before saying that he needed to be careful and then sent him back to work because those cars won’t fix themselves.

The meeting with Bobby did nothing to calm his nerves. It was just another name to add to the ever growing list of people that knew about him and Sam. Another drop of water into the already overflowing glass. He needed to talk to Sam about this. Spending the night at Sam’s was great because he was able to sleep next to the thing that he craved but in the morning it did nothing but add stress to his already stressful life. He needed… he desperately needed to wait until Sam was eighteen and then this relationship would be okay. Sam would be an adult. Gordon wouldn’t have any hold over him. Dean might actually leave town. Leave this place where nothing ever happens. Leave his father.

He needed to stop this sneaking around, the always looking over his shoulder, the being paranoid that something was going to happen to Sam.

He needed to get out. He needed to get away. The moment that it was dark enough and Bobby had left the garage, Dean got into the front seat of the Impala and didn’t even think twice as he sped out to the track. He needed to get out there.

He needed to race, needed to drive down that darkened highway pushing a hundred. His skin itched, his blood boiled, everything in him felt like his body was being pulled apart.

The uneasiness that had settled in the pit of his stomach only seemed to grow as he pulled up to the road, taking note of all the cars that were already there. People were lingering around their cars, laughing, smiling, handing onto each other. Everything seemed like it was supposed to be but there was something in the air that didn’t sit well with him.

Someone directed him over to the beginning of the track, waving briefly through the window which Dean didn’t return. The girl took her spot in between the two cars, her long tan legs standing out in stark contrast to the darkened night.

The radio seemed to be extra noise, something else to distract his already distracted mind.

He almost missed the movement of the flag, his foot laying on the gas pedal just a fraction of a second later than the car next to him. His heart was beating out of his chest in a way that felt unhealthy. It’s almost as if it was desperately trying to get a last couple of beats before it gave out.

He wasn’t sure if he could keep a straight mind, his arms felt unsteady. His mind was hazy, drugged, fogged over despite the fact that he hadn’t had an ounce of alcohol that day. But he trusted his car. He trusted that she would carry him to where he needed to go.

Across that finish line.

The gas pedal was to the floorboard, the speedometer maxing out. He pulled out in front of the other car and he continued to drive the gas pedal further to the ground despite the fact that it wouldn’t go anymore.

He was so close. He could taste metal in his mouth and long after he came to a stop, he would realize that he had bitten down on his tongue to the point that it started to bleed.

Closer and closer and he pushed her harder.

Seconds, it took seconds but she carried him across the finish line like she always did.

She took care of him.

Dean glanced across the cab, looking for another body to celebrate this victory with. The last two races had spoiled him. it had spoiled him for searching for that smile that came with a win but the other seat remained empty. Sam was probably at home now. Or maybe he was still at the library. Either way, he was safe. He wasn’t with him. He wasn’t with this grenade that was on a short fuse.

He thought, for just a moment, if he went off. There could be another accident on these roads. An accident that involved him and burnt rubber and crushed metal. Just gun the car to a hundred once again and end up in some ditch somewhere, body wrapped around the metal frame.

Then maybe, just maybe, he would fulfill that destiny that everyone had set out for him.

But the thought of the boy who sat beside him just a few days ago kept him from driving down that road into eternal darkness.

Dean raced to relax. It found out years ago that racing allowed him to reach that state of mind where nothing bothered him. When it was just him and nothing else except he felt even more on edge now. Knots twisted in his stomach as he pulled off the road. There were people milling about, so completely as ease with the world. Yet he was sitting in the cab of his car feeling like he was about to be sick.

It happened too fast, faster than what he could have anticipated for. Someone opened his car door, dragging him out of the car. He tried to grab at the person, get free from whoever was pulling him along the ground. He could hear boots scuffle along the gravel, two of three pairs if he guessed right.

Dean twisted along the ground, desperately kicking to get free but they held onto him.

Then they suddenly stopped, dropping him to the ground before hauling him up to his feet, grabbing him roughly by his hair. Two pairs of hands grabbed at his arms, keeping him bound in a fleshy prison against his will. Before he could het some sort of snarky comment out or even see who had attacked him, the person that was just just barely to the side of him, punched him hard in the gut.

Dean would have fallen forward, curling in on himself if it weren’t for the fact that someone was holding him. He could see stars, little white dots danced across his vision as he coughed.

“You just don’t learn, do ya, Winchester?” Dean swallowed thickly, resisting the urge to growl. Of course it was him. What did he expect? Gordon punched him again and he was sure that he could taste bile on the back of his tongue. “Always looking for a little beating.”

“Fuck you.” Dean spit.

Gordon punched him again, this time catching the side of his face and Dean could taste the blood in his mouth. He spit the blood out, it landing by Gordon’s shoes.

“I gave you the chance to stay away from him and yet you don’t seem to take a fucking hint. Don’t think that I haven’t heard all the little rumors floating around. Everyone seeing you with him. The fact that you were here at the races with him a couple nights ago and not only that but you were sticking your tongue down his throat.” Gordon looked at the pathetic man that was at his feet. “You know, I could have forgiven you for that. Brady said he took care of you that evening but then I get a call from the school saying that Sam had left campus and I thought to myself ‘that’s not like Sam. Unless someone like you convinced Sam to skip’.” Gordon shook his head. “I tried to be civil with you, Dean, I really did but I guess that I gotta just beat it into you. Straighten you out a little.”

“You don’t hafta do anything. You could just let me go. Call it a day.” Dean tried because begging never killed someone.

Gordon paused, he actually paused like he was considering what Dean was proposing. “Yeah, you know, I could but I gotta admit this is more fun.”

Dean tried to brace himself for the next hit but it still caught him off guard. Dean tried to double over, arms reflexively moving to protect his stomach, his ribs but the two boys held him back, keeping him from being able to. Dean was silent as Gordon continued to hit him. He hung there, head bent, grunts falling from his mouth. He took every hit that Gordon offered him.

Gordon paused, grabbing Dean by his hair, pulling it hard enough that tears started to prickle in the corner of his eyes. “Such a good boy, Dean.” Gordon cooed. “Taking your beating like a good little bitch.”

Dean growled, blood coating his teeth as he tried to yank himself free again. Blood was running from his nose. “Go to hell.”

Gordon hit him again, knuckles connecting with ribs and Dean was almost certain that he felt something crack under the punch. “Little bitches don’t speak.”

“Go… to… hell.” Dean repeated.

Gordon sighed almost as if he was sorry that Dean was bringing this beating upon himself. Gordon hit him wherever he could reach. Across his face, high up on his cheekbone. A couple more hits to his stomach, to his ribs and then Gordon ordered his boys to release him.

Dean slumped to the ground, instinct causing him to curl in on himself to keep his body protected from anymore harm, to keep his internal organs safe from anymore damage. Gordon’s knees cracked as he crouched down beside Dean, pulling him back up by his hair. Dean tried to fight against him, tried to get away.

“I’m only gonna say this once, Winchester, so you better get it through your thick skull, I am responsible for Sam. I have to make sure that Sam gets to school and graduates and then he’s out of here. Forever. He doesn’t need the distraction of you. If you don’t leave him alone, a lot worse thing are going to happen to you than just a little beating.”

“Then let them happen.” Dean growled.

Gordon laughed. “Okay, keep getting hurt and I’ll make sure that he doesn’t ever see you again.”

“You can’t control his life, Gordon. He’s a stronger of a person than you’ll ever be.”

“Okay, I might not be able to control his life but I sure as hell can control you. My fist can be more than persuasive. You better leave him, break his heart, do whatever but get out of his life before you end up getting him killed.”

“I’m not doing that to him.” Dean glared at Gordon.

Gordon growled, frustration tearing through his chest. He shoved Dean’s head back down into the dirt as he stood up.

“You know what to do.” Gordon said to the two people who had held him up. “Just don’t kill him. Not yet.” Dean could head Gordon’s footfalls on the gravel start to walk way and then they paused. “Oh and keep him quiet. We don’t want any noisy bodies poking around.”

Dean once again tried to get away. He tried to scramble away from the people who were about to beat him within an inch of his life, get to the crowds of people just meters away but he was too slow and the other guys were too fast. Someone stepped into his field of vision holding a dirty rag in his hand and stuffed it into Dean’s mouth. Dean wanted to scream out, get the attention of someone, escaped this beating with most of his bones still intact but the only sounds that came out of his mouth were muffled yells.

They took turns beating him, whoever they were. They hit him, kicked him where they wanted, where they could reach. It was everywhere. Again in the ribs, the stomach, the chest, his back. Along with the taste of the dirty rag that was in his mouth, he could taste blood and he was sure that he was going to throw up any second now.

Then they just left. It stopped and they left without saying a word and Dean half expected them to come back with a baseball bat or something like that and beat him a little more but long moments turned into long minutes and there was nothing. Just like that, it was over.

He hurt. In fact that was an understatement. His whole body felt broken and he wanted to do nothing more than to just lie there and not move until someone found his broken and battered body. Maybe the vultures that circled the sky overhead.

Slowly he uncurled from his vulnerable position, wincing as he moved. Everything ached. It felt like his insides were turned and twisted and we hit upon until they were black and blue which probably wasn’t too far from the truth.

He moved slowly because he simply couldn’t move fast. Anytime he stepped, pain ripped through his chest. There was a dull throbbing underneath his eye despite the fact that it had gone numb a while ago.

The keys were still in the ignition and he was grateful for it. Dean groaned as he closed the door to the car. Ellen should be working tonight. Hell it seemed like she was working the night shift every evening now and he was hoping for it. He couldn’t go home, not looking like this, not at the moment. His father was probably still awake, waiting for Dean to walk through the door being that he hadn’t seen him in a couple of days now. He was probably sitting in that damn chair, mouth full of ammunition to fire his way until Dean managed to slink away to his room.

His vision blurred around the edges as he drove. His head felt heavy, almost to the point that he wasn’t sure if he could keep it up.

The drive to the diner felt like it took hours despite the fact that the streets were clear at this time of night. In reality it only took a couple of minutes. Dean haphazardly parked the Impala, having just each sense to stuff the keys into his pocket and stumble into the diner.

The bright white fluorescent lights made his head pound even more, making his eyes sting. Everything smelled fake, chemical, deep fried  and soaked in fat making his stomach churn. It was all too much, to overwhelming for his senses that were on a hairline trigger. In the back of his mind he was sure that he had a concussion and several broken ribs and he really probably should have gone to a doctor but he trusted Ellen more than he trusted some guy with the only experience being from a textbook.

Only it wasn’t Ellen that rushed toward him when he bell overhead rang, it was Sam. He was sitting in the back booth, head bent over some textbook.

Sam caught him just in time to keep Dean from cracking his knees on the hard linoleum. He grabbed Dean’s face, forcing Dean’s unfocused eyes to look at him.

“Heya Sam.” Dean slurred before he fell forward, eyes closing as the sweet painless oblivion took him over.

 

 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Dean woke back up other than the fact that he knew it couldn’t have been long. He had been moved out from in front of the door but he was still on the floor with Sam’s hoodie shoved underneath his head to form a makeshift pillow.

The blurry figures in his vision started to form a clearer picture and now Sam wasn’t the only one hovering over him. Ellen was now there too, arms crossed across her chest and her lips pressed into a thin line.

“If you weren’t already so beat to hell, Dean, I would beat you myself.” Ellen said as soon as she saw that Dean had regained consciousness enough to be responsive.

Dean sighed. “That’s good to know.” He groaned as he tried to sit up but Ellen pressed her hand flat against Dean’s chest and pushed him back down to the floor.

“Stay down, Dean.” She demanded with an annoyed look.

“What happened?” Sam blurted out like he couldn’t contain the question any longer, bringing attention to himself.

Dean opened his mouth to answer but Ellen beat him to the punch. “He’s a dumbass.” She said, shooting Dean a very pointed look to keep his mouth shut and Dean, for once, compiled this time. Sam sighed, not happy with that answer because it didn’t tell him  _ anything _ . “I’ve told you to stay away from those races, boy They’re gonna kill you.  _ Those people _ are going to kill you if the car doesn’t.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Ellen. The fight wasn’t even about racing.” Dean scoffed, brushing off Ellen’s hand as she tried to push him back down when he sat up for the second time. “Besides, I know how to hold my own.”

“Yeah, looks like it. Explains why you’re beat to a bloody pulp.”

“I’m fine.” Dean insisted. He tried to stand up, move away from the prying eyes, from Sam but he winced. His lungs felt like they were being pinched, his breath knocked out of him.

“Mhmm.” Ellen said through pursed lips and this time Dean didn’t fight when Ellen pushed him back down. “You’re just like your daddy, you know that? Not even gonna admit that you need help when you’re dying on your deathbed.”

“Well, if I’m on my deathbed, won’t it be a little too late to ask for help?” Dean shot back.

“You know what I mean!”

“Does someone want to explain to me why the hell you are all beat up?” Sam nearly screamed this time, sounding even more irritated than he did before.

“It was because he was hanging around those damn races again and just like his daddy, has to pick fights with anything that moves.”

“That not…” But Ellen slapped Dean in the middle of his chest lightly, a scowl on her face. “Ow!” Dean exclaimed. “I thought you said that you weren’t going to hit me.”

“No, I said that I wasn’t going to beat you but you keep lying to me and you know that I don’t tolerate that.”

“But it wasn’t about racing! Okay! It had nothing to do with racing. It had to do with…” But he trailed off, settling to look at the chalk board with the daily specials written up on it instead of looking at Ellen. Instead of looking at Sam.

“Me?” Sam finished, sounding so much more guilty than he should sound. “It was because of me, wasn’t it?”

Dean’s silence was all the answer that Sam needed and Sam visibly moved away from Dean, looking at him with that broken look on his face. It hurt Dean more than any fist or boot could do.

“I didn’t… I didn’t think that he would actually do anything.” Sam whispered. “I didn’t…”

Dean sat up, much faster than he should have and much to Ellen’s dismay and he reached out towards Sam. He wanted to touch Sam, hold him, let Sam know through physical touch that he didn’t do this to him but Sam looked so disgusted with himself that Dean was afraid that it would only make matters worse. “Kid, it’s not your fault.”

“But he did it because of me, because we are… dating.”

That word. That one word that used to be so absent in his vocabulary and hearing it now, in this context, seeing Sam mutter the word, it shocked him. His heart did this flutter jump when the word was repeated in his brain. Even now, when it was so evident that they were together it still knocked the breath out of him. Almost as if he couldn’t believe that someone still, after all this time, wanted to be with him.

Ellen looked between Sam and then back up at Dean. “Who exactly did this to you?” She asked.

“Gordon.” Sam answered in place of Dean because Sam knew. There was no question as to who did this.

There was a brief moment where Ellen sat there, thinking and then the realization crossed her face. She snapped her eyes to Dean’s face. “You don’t mean…” And Dean nodded. Both boys swore that they heard her growl deep in the back of her throat. “That boy is still trying to pin shit on you? The next time that he walks in here, I’m gonna…”

“Don’t.” Dean muttered, cutting her off. “Don’t want you getting tied up in defending a fag.”

Ellen slapped him once more. “Don’t you dare say that. You know that I don’t care and neither should anyone else. What you do with Sam is your own damn business and ain’t nobody should be concerning themselves with it.”

“You, well, I don’t want you getting hurt because of me.”

“Boy, you aren’t responsible for me. I can take care of myself. The moment that he steps foot in here…”

“Ellen… please, just don’t.”

There was a tense moment that passed. Ellen pursed her lips like she wanted to argue the point a little more, argue to Dean that she was going to take care of her boy but ultimately Dean’s silent begging won out.

Dean could take a punch. In fact he would welcome it but the moment that someone took a punch for him…

Ellen finally just sighed.

“Alright, fine then, take you shirt off. Let me see the damage.”

Dean couldn’t remember how long he had come to Ellen, seeking out the comfort that her hand could provide, seeking out much needed help. Back when he still cared about school, when he had dreams that didn’t even with asphalt, he would spend his afternoons in some booth, slaving away at whatever information teachers were trying to cram inside his head. He would come seeking out help from Ellen whenever he would get a little too handsy with someone else’s girl and they split his lip. He’s always come here, seeking the affection from someone who cared.

He grunted as he grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling it over his head. Yep, most definitely broken ribs and possibly a punctured lung. Just another day.

All along his chest, bruises were already starting to form. Deep blue and purple fanned out across his tanned skin and Sam had to look away.

It was bad. Didn’t take a doctor to figure that little part out. Part of the reason why he didn’t trust them. They only said the things that were already known but he needed one. Both Ellen and Dean knew that. He needed a doctor and an x-ray and pain pills. He needed everything that he couldn’t have.

Ellen poked at a spot along his ribcage that looked to be the worse of all of them and Dean whined, pulling away from her and her prodding fingers.

“Oh suck it up you big baby.” Ellen muttered, reaching towards the table that she had laid gauze and cloth and everything that she might need to stitch wounds up. Dean shot her a look and Ellen just smiled back. “You’ve had worse.”

Dean couldn’t remember the last time that he had gotten beat this badly. Sure, dad knew how to throw a punch and had done it a couple of times but he didn’t look like this. Ellen wrapped his chest with the gauze, running her fingers over the spots that were bleeding and would probably need stitches. Ellen had long ago perfected her craft of wrapping ribs thanks to Dean.

“Alright.” She said when she was finished with his ribs, turning to his face, taking a wet washcloth to wash away the blood that had started to dry. His eye was already swollen shut and it still didn’t have any feeling. “I don’t think that you have a broken nose, luckily, but your eye is most certainly going to be swollen shut for a little while.”

The diner got quiet then. Every once in awhile, there would be a small intake of breath on Dean’s part but otherwise he remained silence. Sam somehow removed himself even farther from the group. He was behind Ellen, sitting in some booth, watching Dean with wide eyes, his arm wrapped tightly around his body. His jaw was clenched together, looking as if he was hardly keeping it together.

The bowl that was full of clear water had long ago turned red and Dean wished that he knew what Sam was thinking. He needed to know what was going through that brain of his.

“You better stay away from those races, Dean. They’ve already nearly destroyed your life, don’t give them the chance to do it again.” Ellen said, putting the rag into the bowl, her knees cracking as she climbed to her feet. She placed a comforting hand on Sam’s shoulder as she passed by him. Sam looked up at her, his eyes glassy. “He’s going to alright, Sam. He’s a fighter. This isn’t on you, okay? You didn’t do anything to cause this. It was his own damn stupidity.” And with that, she disappeared into the kitchen.

Dean was slow as he got up from the floor, moving towards Sam, trying to hide the grimace that was fighting to be seen. Sam wordlessly moved over in the booth, giving Dean room to sit down. The air was tense between the two of them and Dean wished that he was good with words so he could just say something. Anything.

“Do you… do you hate me?” Sam choked out, his voice breaking at the end.

“What? No. Of course not, Sam.” Dean fumbled over his words, not able to say them fast enough. “What makes you say that?”

“Gordon.” Sam stated, like that would explain everything. “He did this because of me. He hurt you because of me and you shouldn’t…”

Dean grabbed a hold of Sam’s face, silencing him. “Sam, I can promise you that you didn’t cause this. He’s had it out for me for a while now. He would jump at any reason to hurt me.”

“But why?” He sounded so close to actually crying.

Dean’s hands dropped from Sam’s face. “Because he blames me for killing his sister.”


	7. Chapter 7

The moment that the confession was past his lips, Dean regretted ever saying them. Sam recoiled. He visibly recoiled from Dean and everything was finally coming to light. This was going to be the end all, be all. 

So much for that fairytale ending. Guys like him, guys like Dean, don't get the happy endings. 

“He didn’t…” Sam started at the same time that Dean removed himself from the booth, head held high as he forced himself to keep from breaking in front of Sam. It was only right for Sam to move away from him like that. Dean was a monster and there was no way around that little fact.

Sam wrapped his hand around Dean’s arm and pulled Dean back towards him. “Fuck, Dean. Stop, would you.” And Sam shoved Dean back into the booth. “Stop running and let me talk to you.”

“I’m not running.” Dean mumbled.

“Like hell you aren’t! You drop a bomb on me and barely give me to fucking process what you said before you’re up and running out of here.” Sam shouted and now Ellen emerged from the kitchen, standing cautiously in the doorway.

Dean sat there, staring up at Sam, not sure what to think anymore.

“Talk to me.” Sam begged. “Just talk to me.”

“What do you want to know? Huh, Sam? What possibly do you want to know about me?” Suddenly there was anger in his veins, making Dean shake. “You wanna know how my mom died when I was four? Or about the way that my old man beats me because I am never good enough for him? Or how about the way that I drown myself in work and alcohol and fast cars because I can’t fucking focus on anything when I’m not? Or do you want to know about Gordon and what I did to him?” 

His chest was heaving with every intake of breath and it hurt. Breathing hurt like a bitch. “He says that I was driving that night and honestly I don’t know what to believe anymore because the lies has been said so many times that it’s the truth. She was a black blob. We didn’t see her until it was too late. I wanted to stop, I wanted to call the police but Gordon was so fucking worried about his curfew that he kept driving. They found her the next day and Gordon didn’t even hesitate to turn me into the police that morning, saying that I was drunk and was the one that hit her. It couldn’t be proven, my word against his and eventually the police turned me free but not before Gordon dragged my name, along with his name through the mud.”

Once again Sam remained motionless and this time Dean didn’t stop when he felt Sam touch his shoulder as he climbed out of the booth.

“Just let him go, Sam.” Dean heard Ellen mutter to Sam and then he was thrown back out into the cool night.

_ Stupid _ . He muttered to himself as he climbed into the Impala.  _ Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. _ He just had to go off and open his mouth, say something that would finally show Sam the monster that he was. And he was a monster, hiding behind an illusion of being the sheep.

But then again, a love like the love that they shared was never meant to last. Dean lived on the fringe of society and that’s where their relationship stayed. It stayed there being pulled and strained until it finally fell through.

He slammed his hands down on the steering wheel, the horn going off under his closed fist. The light from the diner poured in through his windows but he never felt more in the dark than he did now.

Dean jumped when the passenger door opened and suddenly he wasn’t alone anymore.

“Sam, what the fuck are you doing?” Dean hissed.

“Well, if you’re going to run then I’m going to run with you.” Sam answered matter of factly, closing the door. He grabbed the seat belt and buckled himself in. “So… where we going?”

Dean stared at Sam, at the halo of hair that was sitting upon his head, the way that he was so willing to follow Dean through the depths of hell. He scoffed in disbelief as he shook his head. “Why do you keep coming back to me?”

“Why do you keep pushing me away?” Sam flipped the question back on him.

Dean growled in frustration, throwing his hands up in the air before running a hand through his hair. Fuck teenagers with their over zealous confidence. “Because Sam, you shouldn’t… I’m not good for you. I… I hurt everyone I touch and you… you need to run before I hurt you too.”

“What if I don’t want to run?”

“Then you’re stupid.” Dean spit back, looking back out the windshield.

“Or maybe you’re the one that’s stupid, Dean.” Sam hesitated before continuing. “You haven’t hurt me and I you won’t. You are a good person, Dean.”

Dean scoffed.

“Okay then… why do you think you’re bad for me?” Silence. “Is it because of what happened to Gordon’s sister?” A slight twitch to Dean’s jaw but he otherwise remained motionless. Maybe, just maybe if he didn’t acknowledge Sam in any way then he would just leave. Like he should have done forever ago. “Dean, I’ve already known about that. Gordon told me after that first day that I met you.”

Fuck the silent resolve. “What?”

“I’ve known for months now, Dean. He tried to scare me away from you.”

“And yet you kept coming back to me.”

“Yeah, because I didn’t believe him. I don’t know, you didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would do something like that.”

“Well, there’s a lot of things that you don’t know about me, Sam.”

“And I want learn all those things but I can’t do that if you keep running from me. I want to learn everything there is to learn about you, Dean Winchester.” Dean didn’t ignore the shiver that ran up and down his spine, hearing Sam say his full name like that. 

“There’s a lot of bad.” Dean muttered, one last ditch effort to get Sam to run.

“Yeah… well I bet there’s a lot more good.” Sam whispered back.

There were many things that Dean would do. Many things that put his character in question but making out in the front seat of his car after Sam made the declaration that he just made like this was some fucking chick flick was one thing that he  _ wasn't  _ going to do, alright. 

“So, where do you want me to take you?” Dean said, trying to desperately deflect the conversation back to Sam. 

Sam turned back around, sat in his seat properly and sighed happily as he nodded. “Home, Dean. And I want you to come with me.”

“I can't, Sam.” Dean slumped against the seat. This kid, this fucking kid was pulling him every which way and his body didn't stretch like that.

“I'm not asking, Dean.” Sam's arms were crossed across his chest. “This is not up for debate.”

Dean looked across the cab to see that Sam was watching him with his lips pursed in a thin line, looking as if he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

Besides, maybe this was honestly better for Dean anyway. Postpone the fight that was bound to happen between him and his dad until he was healed a little bit more. It had been days since he's been home. Days since he's talked to John and at some point that grenade was going to go off but Dean still had in gripped right in his hand. For the moment, he was still calling the shots. 

This time he parked a couple of blocks away from Sam’s house, pulled somewhere off the road and covered the car with a canopy of leaves. You wouldn't have noticed the car unless you were specifically looking for it. 

Dean knew that if Ellen figured out that Dean was walking in the condition that he was in, she would kill him. The last thing he needed was to put more strain on his ribs, his lungs, his heart but Sam didn't say anything as he ducked himself underneath Dean’s arm and helped him walk towards the house. And  _ this  _ time Dean didn't even put up a fight. 

In fact, Sam took control of the situation once they got out of the car. He carried Dean to his house, helping him walk and when they got inside, he lead Dean directly to the bathroom where he promptly told Dean to strip. 

Dean made some backhanded comment about he didn't normally do this until the second date but Sam shut him up real quick when he reminded Dean that he had already not only saw him naked, but sucked his dick too. 

Not like Dean had forgotten but he still felt the tip of his ears heat up at the memory, at how incredibly stupid and how dangerous this was getting. 

Sam carefully removed the bandages that Ellen had wrapped around his ribs and set them in the sink as he ushered Dean into the shower and then he proceeded to strip down to nothing and join Dean in the shower. 

It was a tight fit. Sam was growing taller by the day and Dean naturally had a little more muscle on him from the manual labor that he grew up doing but they managed. Sam was tedious as he cleaned Dean, careful as he skated around the cracked ribs and washed the dirt and grime and sweat from Dean’s body.

Dean wanted to return the favor, dig his fingers into the muscle of Sam’s back like Sam had done to him but Sam pushed his hands away, briefly scowling Dean for straining his already strained body. 

They stayed underneath the stream of hot water until it turned cold and  _ dammit Sam, I can fucking dress myself.  _

Dean pulled on the pair of sweatpants that he had left from the previous night and followed Sam back into his bedroom, dropping his shoes and discarded clothes on the floor next to the door.

When Dean laid back on the bed, flat on his back because he knew from experience that laying on his side would put too much stress on his body, on his ribs that he wouldn’t be able to sleep and he expected for Sam to crawl up next to him, like he had done the night before except Sam didn’t.

Instead, he was careful as he positioned himself on the top of Dean’s thighs, sitting back on his legs rather than straddling Dean’s waist.

“What… what are you doing, Sam?” Dean asked, trying to sit up but Sam placed his hands square against Dean’s shoulders and pushed him back down on the bed.

“Just relax.” Sam answered, leaning down to draw his body along the line of Dean’s, his arms boxing in on either side of Dean’s head. 

Dean laid motionless underneath Sam, staring up at him, waiting, just waiting to see what Sam was going to do.

Sam kissed him, slow and so damn sweet that Dean’s chest hurt for an entirely different reason. He could feel everything that Sam was trying to say, what he was trying to make Dean feel. The love. The devotion. The fear of seeing someone you care about covered in their own blood, eyes rolling back in their head as they collapsed to the floor.

“I’m sorry.” Dean whispered because he wanted Sam to know that he was. He wanted him to know that he never meant for any of this to happen. For him to run into Sam, to fall in love with him, to make him actually care about someone like him. He was sorry for it all.

“Shut up.” Sam said without missing a beat as he continued to kiss down Dean’s body, slow, like he was trying to memorize Dean’s body with his lips.

And even Dean couldn’t find it in him to cringe at how ‘romance novelly’ that sounded. Not in this moment at least.

They stayed like that, Sam sitting on top of Dean’s thighs, kissing all along his chest and stomach, kissing and touching every last piece of skin that he could reach well into the night. And the longer they stayed like that, the more that Dean relaxed, sinking into the bed. He fell asleep with the reassuring weight of Sam’s body on top of his and the love that Sam poured into each kiss.

It was so damn sweet and so damn good and Dean craved it like he’s never craved anything else.

If it was possible, things were starting to get better of which Dean was apprehensive to actually believe because there was never a moment in his life when things actually were going along pretty good.

After that night with Sam, he forced himself to go back to his own house, to face his father who seemed entirely unimpressed at the fact that Dean was gone for a couple of nights. And what was even more shocking was the fact that John didn’t even question him about the limp in his step, or the way that he was holding his side gingerly, or the way that his face was painted with all the colors of deep blues, purples and blacks. He took one look at Dean’s face and frowned, shaking his head to himself before berating Dean for not taking good care of the car. It needed a good wash and could stand for another wax coat.

Dean took care of that the next day at the garage.

Days slowly turned into weeks with nothing major happening. There would be nights when Sam wasn’t working late at the library that the two of them would forgo the diner all together (much to Ellen’s dismay because she actually enjoyed their company) and they would lie together on Sam’s bed, becoming well acquainted with each other’s body.

More than once Sam tried to take it further than fleeting touches and blow jobs and more than once Dean was tested on his impulse control and pushed Sam away, saying that he wasn’t going to do that. Not now. Not until he turned eighteen.

Of course that would result in a pout from Sam which made him look younger than he should have and Dean made up for it with his expert mouth but he held true to his promise.

As soon as Sam turned eighteen, as soon as he was an adult, he would deliver on everything that Sam wanted.

Dean stayed away from the races. Even those nights when his hands were itching to get out on the road, to race someone, when it felt like he was crawling out of his skin, he kept himself from going.

At first it was under the excuse that he didn’t think that he could take another beating while his ribs were still healing. And then it turned into something more of if he went, it would be in the dead of night when all things were silent and he could drop those walls that he hid behind and it meant that he would have to leave the comfort of Sam’s arms and his bed and honestly he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Even when Sam said that he could go back out there if he wanted to. He wasn’t keeping Dean bound, keeping him from the one thing that kept him sane.

Racing was his vice and he needed it to survive.

But instead of going back out to that abandoned stretch of road, he would get into the car and just drive with the windows rolled down, music blasting through the speakers. It wasn't the same as racing. You can replace the feel of having another car next to you, pushing you to go faster than what should be allowed but it tamed the beast inside of him.

Some nights he would drive for hours, pushing a hundred, corn stalks becoming nothing more than blackened streaks against an even blacker night. He would drive until his hands cramped and arms screamed for rest.

There would be times when Sam would be with him, when he actually had a moment to breathe air that wasn't filled with books (his teachers stressed the importance of doing good these last couple of months of school) and he would pile in with Dean and they would drive with no destination in particular.

Countless times Dean considered just driving and never stopping with Sam sitting right next to him. He's sure, almost certain in fact, that Sam wouldn't object. He would follow Dean blindly anywhere but Dean never did leave. He couldn't. He had an obligation to Sam, to his father, to this goddamn town. 

While things were getting better, his father was calm and he hadn't seen Gordon, but he also didn't see Sam as often as he wanted.

Dean never did graduate from high school. He dropped out, got his G.E.D. and said adios to school forever, not like he cared about it in the first place but Sam, god Sam was so wrapped up in school, trying desperately to finish as good as he could. And it meant that he never saw Sam. 

He saw him late at night, when they shared Sam’s bed and Dean made sure to make Sam a good breakfast in the morning and that was about it.

However the closer that they got to March, the closer they got to the day of finding out if Sam go accepted, the more anxious not only Sam got but also Dean got. 

Anytime that he saw Sam, he asked if he's heard anything yet and Sam would shake his head, remind Dean that it wouldn't be until later in the month that he would find out but it still didn't defer Dean from asking. He wanted to know. He needed to know. 

March 17 wasn't anything special really. The weather was nice, work at the garage was slow. John had actually gotten up that morning, shrugged on his coat and said that he needed to go to Wichita for something and he probably wasn't going to be back until later that evening.  Dean didn't ask for what reason he was going. Learned from an early age that you don't ever ask him for motives behind his actions. You just let him go. 

So John loaded himself up into his truck and headed off to Wichita, a seed of unease settling in his stomach. 

John seemed to be leaving more and more lately, heading up to Wichita nearly once a week it seemed and he's heard rumors around town, about what John’s been doing. You can't leave a town like this as often as he does and don't raise some suspicion. But Dean’s heard the rumors, that there's some girl that he's going to see. 

Dean just pretended not to hear them.

Bobby let Dean go home early. Said business was slow and their ain't no reason to stay open when they're just gonna waste electricity. However Dean knew the old man and knew that his legs were bothering him more than usual and while he trusted Dean to run the shop, he hated to feel like he was old, inadequate. He would call it quits when he wanted to. 

Besides it was a pretty day outside and he might have overheard Bobby talking to the sheriff, Jody, on the phone to maybe go out to the lake later this afternoon, sip a beer, do something.

He kept the smirk off his face when Bobby barked at him “whatcha lookin at, boy?” when he hung up.

Sam was still at school. They didn't get out until close to four and then he had to work down at the library anyway. It would be later this evening that he would head on over to Sam’s, parking a few blocks away from his house. 

There wasn't much to do at home, not with John not around at least. There wasn't much on TV unless you count infomercials. He tried to read one of those books on the bookshelf with spines that hadn't even been cracked yet but he couldn't ever get into it.

He ended up getting a beer out of the fridge, making himself comfortable on the couch, staring up at the weird stain on the ceiling after a while. The liquid was cold and condensation ran down the bottle, creating a wet ring where it sat on his stomach. Moments like this were rare. Moments where he was completely alone, able to do what he wanted with the fear of it coming back on him. He was perfectly content with just waiting until he would go to Sam’s and start the day all over again.

He was drifting off to sleep when he was jostled awake by a frantic knock on the door. Still groggy from nearly being asleep, he haphazardly placed his bottle on the coffee table and pulled himself towards the door.

He wasn’t sure who would be visiting him this early in the afternoon. Benny learned a while ago not to come around the house for any reason and usually Bobby would call the house before he came over and then… no one he worked with at the bar would come over. They didn’t care about him enough to make a social visit and then Dad… he would have heard Dad’s truck.

It ended up being Sam, standing there on the faded door mat, face wide with a smile, hand poised like he was going to knock again and in the other hand was an envelope.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, the smile bleeding over in his voice.

“How’d you find me?” Dean replied back, pulling Sam inside and shutting the door behind him. He wasn’t expecting Dad to get back for another few hours but still… best not look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I asked Ellen.” Sam sounded breathless and then he held the envelope up in front of Dean’s face, way to close for him to actually read anything. “Guess what came today!”

And all at once, the apprehension that he felt about having Sam within the walls of his house disappeared as he grabbed the heavy envelop out of Sam’s hand and turning it over, his suspions confirmed. Printed in black ink, Stanford was printed on the front of it.

“Did you get in?”

Sam shrugged, grabbing it back. “I don’t know. I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Then open it!” Dean was nervous, actually nervous for the boy that was standing in front of him. His future, his whole life was written on that sheet of paper within that envelope. Dean lead them over to the couch.

Sam was shaking as he tore at the seal, fingers not as nimble as they usual are as he pulled out the paper. His eyes skimmed the sheet, face not revealing anything and Dean sat back, his own hands shaking as he watched Sam, waiting, just waiting.

A minute passed and then two and then… “Well?” Dean pushed.

And Sam looked up at him with tears in his eyes and for a split second he thought the worse, that those pompous snobs didn’t think that Sam was good enough for their school and then Sam smiled, so wide that it was sure to hurt. “I got in!” He whispered, almost in disbelief. “I actually got in!”

“Of course you did!” Dean said, reaching for the letter. He wanted to read it himself. Needed to read those words, his boy, Sam, he got into Stanford.

It was there. Samuel Wesson was accepted.

“Yeah, of course you did, Sam.” Dean repeated because it was stupid to believe that Sam wouldn’t.

Before he had time to brace himself, Sam lunged forward, grabbing Dean’s face and pulling him in for a hard, desperate kiss. “You did it, Sammy.” Dean gasped against Sam. “You did it.”


	8. Chapter 8

Sam was smiling through the kiss as he crawled to get closer to Dean, to get on top of him. Dean turned his body, repositioning himself on the couch so that he wasn’t kissing Sam sideways rather head on now, the letter fallen to the floor, forgotten for the moment. Sam was straddling Dean’s waist, pushing Dean against the side of the couch and yet it still wasn’t close enough for him.

“Dean…” Sam moaned into Dean’s mouth. His hips were rutting up against Dean’s, seeking some kind of friction, something to ease the burning want in the pit of his stomach. Dean had his hand up Sam’s shirt, feeling the muscles in his stomach, bunch and tighten underneath his touch. “Please...Dean.”

Dean broke away, his hand still pressed flat against Sam’s stomach and looked at him.

“Are you sure?” He asked because fuck, Sam still wasn’t eighteen yet. His birthday was in two months but he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted this, wanted Sam, wanted to watch him come apart underneath him and honestly, getting accepted into college seemed as good of a reason as turning eighteen seemed.

“More than anything.” Sam exclaimed, kissing Dean again. “Please.”

“Okay.” Dean gasped, his mouth moving along Sam’s jaw, down his neck. “Okay. Not here though. Not having you lose your virginity on a dirty couch, Sam.”

“Aw, such the romantic.” Sam teased and Dean bit down into his shoulder, hard.

Dean shifted, moving to stand up and Sam wrapped his legs tighter around Dean’s waist, his arms around his neck and Dean carried Sam into his room, kicking the door closed just in case.

Sam squeaked when Dean threw him down on the bed, honest to god squeaked and Dean couldn’t keep the giddy grin from his face. The kid was fucking adorable, face flushed, hair a mess, eyes blown wide. Sam crawled up backwards on the bed, settling himself against Dean’s pillow as Dean pulled out the bottle of lube that he kept in his bedside table (not that he was anxiously waiting for this moment. Not at all.)

The bed squeaked underneath Dean’s weight as he put a knee down on it, crawling over to where Sam was lying. Sam lifted himself up to his elbows, pulling Dean in for a kiss as he pulled at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over Dean’s head and dropping it to the floor.

For several moments they kissed, fingers brushing over skin as they stripped each other bare and then Sam was completely naked underneath Sam, the definition of sin.

It wasn’t the first time that Dean’s seen Sam naked but everything felt so different, so new and Dean couldn’t deny the way that his heart was beating frantically. Dean grabbed a hold of Sam’s hand, kissing the tips of his fingers before placing it on his chest, over his heart.

“You feel this?” Dean whispered, words suddenly to loud. Sam nodded. “It beats for you. Only for you.”

Sam opened his mouth to say something, to release the building pressure in the room but Dean leaned down and kissed him again, effectively cutting him off. Dean grabbed Sam’s leg, hiking it up around his hip as he flipped them around, Sam now sitting on top of him.

“You trust me?” Dean asked as he reached across the bed and grabbed the bottle of lube that was momentarily forgotten.

Sam’s lips fell open as he nodded.

The cap to the bottle clicked open with a loud pop and Dean poured a generous amount over his fingers. Sam shifted on top of Dean, moving a little further up his body.

Dean reached behind Sam, fingers brushing over the soft skin of Sam’s back as he pulled Sam open for him. Sam’s breathing hitched when Dean placed a finger over his hole, just barely pressing in. Dean waited a couple of seconds, rubbing his finger over his hole, Sam’s breathing hitching with every pass of the pad of his finger before he finally pushes in, just barely.

Sam gasped surprised and fell forward, hands braced against Dean’s chest.

Dean pushed his finger in a little further, up to the first knuckle before he pulled out only to push back in, farther this time. Sam is so unbelievably tight that it feels like he’s never going to be able to stretch the kid out enough to take him. That if he tries to fuck Sam the way that his body needs him to then he’ll split Sam wide open.

But Sam rocked backwards, back onto Dean’s finger, begging for more.

He pushes his finger inside Sam a few more times before coating them in even more lube (you can never truly have enough) and this time he presses two fingers inside of Sam.

It’s slow and tedious and Dean wants to make sure that this is good for Sam and Sam is making these sounds that are tearing Dean apart inside.

“My fingers feel good?” Dean asked, looking up at Sam who was biting his bottom lip. Sam nodded his head, rocking back the tiniest bit, trying to get Dean deeper inside of him. “Gonna feel even better when I fuck you, kid.”

Sam made a choked noise.

“You think my fingers feel good? Just wait ‘til you’ve got my dick inside you.” The words fall from his lips and it’s not like he can help it. Talking dirty like that. He’s been told before from countless girls (and even Sam himself) that he’s got a real dirty mouth. There’s some girls who just aren’t into that but Sam… beautiful, innocent Sam, he eats that shit up. He takes those words and bury them somewhere deep inside his brain.

Sam can’t decide if he wants to kiss Dean or have his mouth everywhere on his at once. With every push of Dean’s fingers, his lips end up somewhere else, his hot breath marking Dean’s skin. Every breath is a stutter.

“It might burn a little, alright?” Sam’s looking at him. “But I promise, I’ll take care of you. I’ll make it feel so good that it won’t hurt, okay? I’m always gonna take care of you, baby boy.”

Sam tightened his legs around Dean’s hips. His cock is hard, a heavy weight against Dean’s stomach that’s trapped by muscle. Sam is leaking everywhere, so very close to coming and the thought that he might come on his cock, untouched makes Dean hiccup.

“Are you ready for me, Sam?” Dean whispered, words searing the space between them.

Sam nodded.

“Need to hear you say it, kid.”

“Yeah.” A breath. “M’ready.” He’s quiet, barely a sound but it sounds like a shout to Dean.

“Yeah.” Dean pushed his fingers in deep before pulling them out again. Sam whined at the loss of contact. “Yeah. Okay.” One hand gripped tight onto Sam’s hip, Dean flipped them over again, Sam’s hair billowing out around his head like some damn halo. Dean quickly rolled on a condom before he trapped Sam in between his arms.

Sam is completely silent as Dean pushed into him. Sam is so tight around Dean, squeezing like a vice and Sam’s eyes are wide, mouth open and Dean can’t help himself. He recaptured Sam’s lips with his own, kissing him softer than he’s probably ever kissed anyone in his life.

Then Sam’s rolling up against him, hips rocking against Dean’s, urging Dean to move because he hasn’t moved at all since he’s bottomed out and Sam’s sure that if Dean doesn’t do something, ease the burning feeling that’s deep within his stomach then he’s going to burst.

Dean went slow until he couldn’t anymore. He went slow until Sam’s fingers dug crescent shaped scars into his shoulders and begged for  _ more more more. _

Sam was going to kill Dean. He was sure of it.

Their bodies were covered in sweat before long. Sam had his hair in his face and Dean hold thrust into Sam harder because the kid kept begging for more than Dean was worried that he wasn’t going to be able to last.

_ More. Harder. Fast. Please, Dean… please. _

“You’re doing so good, kid.” Dean was breathless. “So fucking good, Sammy. Feel so good. You gonna come for me? Huh? You gonna paint your stomach white for me?”

“Yes, Dean. Yes… please.” Sam moaned.

The moment that Dean wrapped his hand around Sam’s hard cock, Sam barely last more than three seconds. He  grabbed Dean’s shoulders even harder as he comes. Dean can hardly breathe as he watches Sam fall apart. Pink lips parted in the most obscene way, pupils blown wide, legs wrapped even tighter around Dean’s waist, the tight heat of his body clutching even tighter around his cock.

Dean comes with a muffled shout in the dip of Sam’s shoulder, biting down on a spot that will most definitely bruise in the morning. One that he’ll run his fingers over until it fades.

He rode out his high, hips faltering until he pulled out of Sam, rolling off of him and laying down on the bed next to him.

Sam immediately latches his body around Dean’s, face buried in the crook of Dean’s neck, pressing soft kisses there. “Shoulda know that you would be a cuddler.” Dean muttered as he lifted his arm so Sam could nestle up closer to him.

“Thank you, Dean.” Sam muttered. And the kid sounded happier about this than the fact that he got into Stanford and Dean wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

He could have stayed like this, in this blissed out state with Sam curled up next to him, periodically pressing soft kisses to his chest, his neck, his face but the rumble of an engine jerked Dean up right and he stared in the direction of the front door though his wall, his heart thumping loudly in his chest for an entirely different reason now.

Dad. Dad was back and Dean had this boy in his bed, sweat still cooling on his body and if Dad found out…

Dean scurried out of bed, picking up his clothes that were scattered around the room. Sam sat up, looking at Dean for a moment before he turned his head to the sound of a car door being slammed shut.

“Shit.” Dean muttered, yanking up his jeans. “Shit.” He and Sam locked gazes. “Stay here and stay quiet… please.” Dean begged, answering the silent question that Sam was asking him and Sam nodded, pulling his knees up to his chest, the mood in the air taking a huge turn for the worse. “Lock the door behind me.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair quickly before stepping out of the room, the door closing behind him and moments later, the faint sound of a lock clicking in place filling the small house.

Moments later the front door opened and John walked through the door looking worse than what Dean’s seen him for a long time. His eyes were bloodshot, hair a mess as if he’s run his hand through it to many times.

And he reeks of alcohol.

“What are you standing there for, boy?” John hissed, taking another step into the house, slamming the door behind him. Dean flinched.

“How was Wichita, Dad?” Dean asked, moving away from the door and the secret that he was hiding in there.

“How do you think it was?”

Dean didn’t know but he wasn’t going to say anything else, not when he was in this agitated state like this. All he needed to do was keep John away from his room and then he would be able to sneak Sam out of the house and back to his own under the guise that he had a shift down at the bar.

“What are you doing home so early? Shouldn’t you be down at the garage?” John asked, dropping the keys on the small coffee table and on the floor, Dean saw the edge of the letter that had been dropped to the floor.

His blood ran cold.

“Um… Bobby closed up early today.” He tried not to stutter.

John looked at him weird, as if he didn’t quite believe what Dean was saying. Dean glanced back over at the letter before he looked back at John, a shaky smile on his lips. His palms were sweaty.

John narrowed his eyes at his son and stupidly Dean glanced over at the letter again. He needed to get over there and hide it before John saw it. But John was always perceptive and he read each one of Dean’s nervous ticks like a book and the moment that he turned his head to look at the letter, Dean was already moving towards it but even drunk, John was faster than what Dean anticipated.

“Dad, I can explain.” Dean begged.

But it was as if John hadn’t heard him. “ _ You _ got into Stanford?” John spit. He tore his eyes away from the letter, looking at his son who was now frozen in his spot looking even more confused.

“What?” Dean whispered.

“Stanford?  _ You  _ got into Stanford?” The letter was crumpled in John’s giant hand. The laugh that escaped past John’s lips left Dean cold. “You honestly thought that you could get away from me by going to  _ college _ .” John laughed again. A sound that was completely void of humor.

Dean was still frozen to his spot, brain trying to piece these things together. John thought, he thought that  _ he  _ had gotten into college. That it was him, not Sam. In fact, it was as if he had completely overread Sam’s name on the letter. Dean’s eyes widened at that prospect, that Sam was still relatively safe tucked away in his room. The only good thing about this whole situation was that John thought that he had gotten into college. Dean almost felt like laughing.

But then John was tearing up the letter, piece after piece torn apart and it felt like a knife through Dean’s heart.

“Dad!” Dean exclaimed, jumping from his spot, trying to keep him from tearing up the letter anymore but John just dropped the torn up pieces and grabbed a hold of Dean.

“You’re never going to get out of this town, Dean. Never going to be able to leave me. They don’t want you. Not when they realize just how much of a fuck up you are.” Dean heard none of it. He was only looking at the torn letter on the ground. “Are you even listening to me, son?”

And Dean snapped. He pushed John away from him. “You had no right to do that.” Dean spit. “And I am leaving you. I’ve put up with your shit for long enough and I’m going… I’m going…”

“Going where, Dean? To college? How are you going to pay for it, huh? Sure as hell ain’t using my money and I know for certain you don’t have a hundred grand laying around from fixing up old radiators and serving alcohol.” John took a step towards Dean. “You wanna go, fine. Go. The door’s right there. But leave  _ my _ car here. And leave every single thing that I’ve ever bought you here. You think that you can take care of yourself, then go. Just see how long you last without me there.”

“I’ve survived my whole life without you, Dad!” Dean screamed. “My whole life!”

“And yet you keep driving my car and you keep coming back to sleep under my roof and you keep disrespecting me like the little punk ass kid that you are. You wouldn’t know what to do on your own.”

Rage was boiling over because John was calm, bored even and Dean couldn’t fathom how John could be this calm when it felt like Dean’s body was on fire with unkempt rage.

It happened too fast and Dean didn’t really know what he was doing until his father staggered backwards a step...two… trying to keep his balance before he tripped over his alcohol lazy feet and fell backwards, head cracking with the edge of the coffee table and a house that was previously filled with shouting was sudden deadly silent.

Dean stood there looking down at the fallen form of his father, hands shaking.

He didn’t mean to push him. At least not that hard. He just wanted to get his father angry, see real emotion coming from him. He hadn’t meant to do… this.

“Dad?” Dean questioned, his voice sounding like a child who was suddenly very scared of the dark. “Dad?” John remained motionless on the ground and Dean knew that his dad wasn’t going to respond.

The door to Dean’s room opened behind him. “Dean?” A voice squeaked and Dean barely heard it. He couldn’t hear anything over the pounding in his ears, the fear that was running through his head, the slowly dawning realization that his dad, that John was… “Dean.” Feather like touches to the small of his back and Dean still flinched.

Sam was standing next to him, not caring about the body on the floor, only eyes for Dean.

“Dean.” Sam asked again, this time louder, pulling Dean away from Dad.

Dean allowed himself to be lead into the kitchen and sat down at the dinner table, a comforting hand on his back the whole time. Dean didn’t feel any of it. He didn’t feel anything. Numb. That’s how he felt. Completely numb.

Something was placed in his hand and he looked down at it and then back up at Sam. A glass of water.

“Drink.” Sam urged, arms crossed against his chest, watching.

Dean looked back down at the glass before taking a sip of it because that’s what Sam wanted, right? For him to drink something? I mean, it made sense. But why? Why would Sam care enough for him to drink something?

That didn’t make sense.

“Dean!” The name rattled his brain and he slowly turned his head to look up at Sam. He had a frown on his lips. “Are you alright, Dean?”

Dean shrugged. Alright? Probably not. Numb. Yes. Sam glanced back towards the living room and when Dean tried to turn to look at what Sam was looking at, Sam directed him back to look at him.

“Listen, Dean…” Sam crouched down in front of Dean, holding his face in between his hands. “I’m going to go to the store, okay?” Dean nodded because that’s what he felt he needed to do in this situation. “I want you to stay here. Don’t move, okay? I shouldn’t take long.” Dean nodded again. Again just because he felt like he needed too. “What do I need you do?” Sam questioned.

Dean furrowed his brow. What did Sam need him to do? He looked around the kitchen as if something would give him the answer. “Umm…”

“I need you to stay here. Don’t move until I get back. Okay?” Sam repeated.

Dean nodded.

“So tell me what I need you to do again.” Sam pressed, voice soft like he was consoling a small child.

“Stay… stay here.” Dean repeated looking around the kitchen once more before settling on Sam’s face. “You want me to stay here until you get back from the… the store.”

Sam smiled. “That’s right, Dean.”

A quick kiss to the lips and then suddenly the warmth from Sam’s hands were gone.

Dean sat there in that chair, staring up at the clock up on the wall but he couldn’t tell you what time it was or how much time passed before awareness washed over him like a cold wave.

John was dead. He knew that now. Thinking back to it, looking down at his father, there was blood that was pooling around his head. He hit his head on the edge of the coffee table be Dean had… because he had pushed him.

He was all too aware of that fact. That John was now dead and it was all because of Dean. Haven’t John told him one time that his anger would kill someone one day? He felt like that’s something his father told him before.

But Sam, Sam was alright. Sure the letter was torn up now but surely Stanford could send him another one? It was only paper. He stood up from the table and walked into the living room, expecting to see his father still laying there but the room was empty. Which was fine because he wasn’t looking for his father. It was the letter that he was looking for.

The scraps were scattered and Dean collected each and everyone of them, trying to desperately piece them back together. Tape. He would tape them back together and he would give it to Sam and…

He snapped his head up, his gaze directed towards the closed door of his room where Sam was still hiding. Where… at least, he should be hiding. Dean dropped the scraps of paper, them scattering around on the ground once more and all but ran over to the closed room. He yanked the door open expecting to see Sam sitting on the bed but it was bare. His heart started to beat faster in his chest.

Sam.

Sam had witnessed him kill his father. Sam had witnessed him murder his own father. He felt sick. He felt so sick. Sam had witnessed him murder his father and now he was gone.

He left out of fear, out of disgust. It didn’t really matter what adjective you used. Sam had left because he realized Dean to be the monster that the town made him out to be.

Sam left and he was all alone. He didn’t even have his drunk son of a bitch father there screaming at him, telling him that was how it was supposed to be. Dean was supposed to be alone and that thought scared him.

But it wasn’t really a thought, was it? It was a reality that he was now facing.

Dean held onto the door of his bedroom like it was anchoring him to this earth. Now, with nothing left to fight for or nothing left to prove, it would be so easy to take a bottle of sleeping pills, down a bottle of whiskey and into a slumber that he would never wake from. Just like his mother did years before him. John always did say that he was just like her.

The sound of a door slamming shut drew him out of his head. It was probably the police here to arrest him. Sam probably ran and told the whole world how fucked up he was and now they were here to collect him.

Maybe… just maybe he could pull off one of those police assisted suicide things. John had guns, slept with them under his pillow because he was a paranoid bastard ever since he got back from the war and the police wouldn’t think twice about shooting him. He was armed and crazy. It would work just like it did in that book  _ The Outsiders  _ that he read years ago in school.

What he didn’t expect though was for Sam to walk in through the door, a frown on his lips, ears red from the chill in the air (the temperature seemed to drop quickly at night. Was it really night already?) holding a couple bags in his hands.

Sam’s frown grew even deeper at the disheveled sight of Dean clutching onto his bedroom door. Sam wasn’t sure what he expected to see when he got back but seeing Dean looking absolutely terrified and actually standing up wasn’t one of those things. He kinda expected to see Dean still sitting at the dinner table, looking as if he weren’t actually there.

He didn’t have time to brace himself before he was nearly knocked backwards by one hundred and eighty-five pounds of a broken man, the bag crushed between the two of them.

“Don’t leave me again.” Dean mumbled. He begged.

“But, Dean, I told you, I was going to the store. I was going to be…”

“Please Sam. Don’t leave me.” And it was all Sam could but nod.

“I won’t leave you, Dean.” Sam promised, now pushing Dean away from him because as much as he wished that he could just have Dean hold him like that, there were more pressing matters at hand. Like the fact that Dean’s dad, John was dead and they needed to get rid of the body. “Hey, Dean, we’ve gotta bury your dad? Okay? We’ve gotta…”

“No.” Dean said suddenly. “No. We don’t… we don’t bury, Winchesters.”

And you don’t. For however long Dean could remember, every single Winchester was burned. It was a tradition that Dean never really understood and he’s not sure that he ever will understand but it’s something that they did. They burned his grandfather. They burned his mother.

And now he was going to burn his father.

“Um… okay.” Sam looked to be at a loss. There weren’t many people around so it wasn’t that Sam was concerned about drawing a crowd. Dean lived out in the middle of nowhere but he was fully prepared to bury John… not burn him.

“You don’t have to help if you don’t want to. I can do it…” Sam shook his head.

“No, I’ll help you. I don’t mind. What do you need me to do?”

Dean explained everything that they would need and when Dean went off to look for it all, Sam grabbed a hold of Dean’s forearm, telling him that he would collect everything. Dean didn’t need to do anything. So Dean lingered behind Sam, telling him where the fire accelerant would be and matches and everything else.

Sam bent down underneath the counter of the sink where Dean said that they kept the canisters of salt and when he straightened, Dean was no longer behind him. He was about to call out Dean’s name when he reappeared in the kitchen, holding the paper scraps in his hand.

“He tore it up.” Dean said, once again sounding like a child. “I tried to stop him but he… umm… I’ll get you another one, Sam. I’m sorry.”

Sam set down the canister on the counter before walking over to Dean and covered Dean’s hands with his own. “It’s okay, Dean. It was just a piece of paper. It’s fine.”

“But it’s your acceptance letter.” Dean replied. That meant something. This paper meant something.

Sam took the paper from Dean and threw it away. Dean had his head cocked to the side, watching Sam move, watched him throw away what meant the world to the both of them hours ago. “It’s nothing more than dead trees and ink, Dean. It’s not important.”

It takes Sam kissing Dean to make him drop the fact that he didn’t need another letter and then after that, they went outside, arms full of everything that they had collected.

Earlier that evening, before Sam left to the store to buy a shovel and lyme, he had removed the small coffee table and carried John outside, covering him with an old bedsheet. Dean helped Sam move his father on top of the coffee table, setting him on top of it like it was some kind of pyre and then Dean doused his father in the fire accelerant.

Dean’s fingers shook as he struck the match and the held the match, looking at the flame until it nearly burned all the way down to the tips of his fingers and then Dean threw it down on the covered form of his father.

He went up into a blaze.

Dean stepped back to where Sam was standing and just watched as the sheet and his dad and the coffee table turned into embers in the night sky.

Sam nestled up closer to Dean, seeking warmth from Dean’s body that the fire in front of him couldn’t provide.

Dean barely felt Sam press up closer to him and he hardly heard Sam ask him if he was going to be alright. He didn’t know. How was he supposed to know?

But Sam knew that Dean’s fingers were cold as they dug into the flesh right above his hip as Dean pulled him closer. He was almost like a corpse himself.

It’s shock. At least that's what Sam thinks it is. It's the only thing that makes sense now. Ever since they burned John, Dean has been on what could be called autopilot. For five days now, it's been half finished conversations and bringing Dean back to the present and out of his mind. The one place where Sam  _ couldn't  _ protect him.

The few times that Dean would speak, it would to brush Sam off, tell him that he was fine and that he needed to stop his nagging because there was  _ nothing  _ wrong. Everything was alright. Really.

Of course, Sam didn’t believe a word that Dean said because Dean’s body spoke louder than his words ever could.

There would be times that he would wake in the morning, expecting to feel the warmth of Dean’s body beside him only to find the bed empty. A little ways down from the house, a short jog really, there’s a river. Well, more like a creek and more often than not, Sam will find Dean there. The first morning that we woke and Dean wasn’t there and there wasn’t anything left behind telling Sam where Dean might have disappeared off too, it scared Sam more than he cared to admit.

Because Dean wasn’t well. No matter how much he tried to act like everything was fine, pretend that his father’s death wasn’t affecting him, it was clear to anyone that it was all just a front. A front to hide the fact that Dean all of the sudden felt like a very small child seeking the guiding hand of a parent that was no longer there.

Now waking up to an empty bed was something that was more of a regular occurrence. What’s not so regular though is where Dean might be. There’s times where he’s gone down to the creek, feet in the freezing cold water that still hadn’t warmed up yet. Winter was still in air despite the fact that it was March. But then there would be other times when Sam would find Dean wearing the same thing that he had gone to bed in the night before, standing in front of the place where they burned his father, eyes void of emotion as he stared off into space.

It’s cold outside. That’s the first thing that Sam thinks of when he wakes up. It’s cold and the bed is empty and Dean… he’s probably outside, still in his sweatpants that he went to sleep in, oblivious to the fact that it’s nearly cold enough to freeze water.

He throws the blankets off his body, a sense of urgency in his movements because there’s no telling how long Dean has been outside. He hardly ever sleeps anymore.

Shrugging on a jacket and a pair of Dean’s boots, he runs outside, hoping that Dean’s standing there where they burned his father but he’s not. Dread settles in his stomach as he runs toward the creek.

It’s so quiet out this early in the morning. The sun had just broken the horizon and even the birds hadn’t started chirping. Sam can hear the water rushing over the rocks and limbs and he trips as his foot catches in a tree root. He falls hard, landing in a pile of old leaves and moss, wet from the morning dew. His hands and knees are muddy when he stands up.

Sam’s already calling Dean’s name on the off chance that he might actually reply. So far, every morning he hasn’t. He clears the tree line that Dean told him that marks the edge of their property and he comes up short, hovering on stepping out and staying hidden within the trees.

Dean’s there, sitting in the middle of the creek, legs stretched out in front of him, toes submerged beneath the water, arms braced out behind him, leaning on his hands casually. Just as Sam guessed, he’s only wearing a pair of sweatpants.

Sam’s freezing, all huddled in his clothes and yet Dean is acting like none of it is affecting him. Like he can’t feel the cold.

He probably can’t.

“Dean?” Sam calls, waiting to see if Dean is going to respond this time, if he cognizant of his surroundings or if he was in that place, stuck in his head.

But at the sound of his name, Dean turned his head and a bright, childish smile broke out across his face.

“Heya, Sammy.” Dean said, waving his hand towards Sam. “Wondering when you would get here. I was starting to think that you had forgotten.”

Sam swallowed thickly as he crossed his arms across his chest and walked towards the water's edge. His skinny arms did nothing to keep the chill out of his chest and he wished that he could protect Dean from this, from whatever was driving him to do this.

“Naw, I didn’t forget.” Sam replied. He learned that it was best to just play along. The last time that he tried to disagree with Dean, say that they hadn’t planned to meet up at the river, he got so confused almost to the point that he lashed out violently. Dean smiled wider, turning his attention back to the water, eyes focused on something that probably wasn’t even there.

Sam’s given up trying to look for what Dean was looking at.

“But… uhh… Dean, maybe do you think we could go back to the house? I was just about to make breakfast and I would hate for it to get cold. And besides, it’s kinda…” But Sam trailed off. Dean wasn’t even listening to him.

“I was wanting to go swimming.” Dean said, pulling his hand out of the water and looking at the droplets drop back into the creek. “But I forgot that you can’t really swim in this creek. It’s too shallow… but it feels nice.”

That’s a lie. The water does not feel nice. It chills Sam straight to the bone when he steps into the water and towards Dean. They’re small, tentative steps, cautious, waiting for this quiet resolve to burst and for Dean to lash out in some way. Sam tries to ignore the way that Dean has gone pale. Way too pale, blues veins popping out through his skin along his arms and chest. His lips are nearly purple from the cold.

Too much like the corpse they burned days ago.

There’s bile working its way up Sam’s throat but he swallows around it.

“Dean…” Sam calls out again but this time Dean just ignores him, eyes still fixed on that imaginary thing that he was looking at. And just like that, Dean was gone again. “Come on, Dean. Please.” He was begging now, his voice shaking because he couldn’t keep from shivering. The hand that he outstretched to pull Dean up remained ignored.

Sam walked further into the creek, coming to a stop in front of Dean.

Dean blinked. Once, twice and then he shook his head, a grin appearing back on his lips.

“Heya, Sammy.” He said like this was the first time that he’s seen Sam this morning.

Sam managed to smile back, a fake thing that feels hollow against his lips but he smiles back and it’s good enough for Dean because he’s still looking at Sam, holding his gaze. There’s tears threatening to fall but Sam blinks them away, walking around Dean to hook his arms underneath his armpits and he hauled Dean to his feet.

It was clumsy and they both nearly fell back into the water and Dean cursed as he tried to get his feet underneath him.

Sam draped Dean’s arm around his shoulder, getting as close to his body that he possibly could. Dean leaned into him, seeking the little bit of warmth that Sam was now offering him and Sam helped him back to the shore, out of the water and back through the little forest. Dean’s feet slipped through the mud and leaves and the morning dew.

When they get back to the house, Sam directs Dean to the bathroom and strips him out of his sweatpants before stepping out of his own soaked clothes and stepped into the shower.

Dean’s skin is cold and discolored and when he presses himself against Dean’s body, so that they both are under the stream of water, Dean’s body is stiff.

Almost as if he were already dead.

By noon, Dean is almost back to normal. He’s skin is still pale and every now and then he gets this full body shiver but he’s back to acting like how he should be acting. It gives Sam whiplash how quickly this happens and he doesn’t understand why. How Dean can go from not even being on the planet to the most normal human being.

For lunch, Dean makes them a grilled cheese.

Dean doesn’t eat his.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam had more or less moved in with Dean now that the fear of being discovered by Dean’s father is no longer hanging over their heads. Sam hasn’t been to the library since the incident, calling in telling the staff there that something’s come up with school and he can’t come in. They’re more than understanding. Nevermind the fact that he hasn’t stepped foot inside the school in just as long.

Dean’s too skittish, to unstable to leave by himself and whenever Sam’s gone for more than a few minutes, Dean freaks out, the thought that Sam had finally had enough plaguing his mind and that Sam left.

Sometimes they’ll lay in bed for hours, Dean nuzzled up underneath Sam’s chin, not moving, just drawing random symbols on his chest.

One time Sam asked Dean what he was drawing and Dean replied back that he was drawing sigils to protect Sam from the evil in the world. Sam didn’t question it.

And then one day, Dean’s back. Actually back to himself. There’s recognition in his eyes, he’s dressed in clean clothes, actually realizing that it was fucking cold outside and was wearing something more than a threadbare t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

And it’s this fact that Dean is acting completely normal that scares him more than when he finds him half frozen in that damn creek. When he woke that morning, Dean is in the kitchen, making some eggs and bacon, a fresh pot of coffee brewing and Sam eats it all (Dean, once again, doesn’t).

Sam thinks that it’s some fluke, that Dean was going to revert back to that person he was who wasn’t aware of his surroundings and this time, he was going to fall so hard that Sam wasn’t going to pick him up but it never happens.

Then Dean declares that he’s going to go back to work. Bobby has been calling him non-stop (more than once Sam’s answered the phone and told the old man that Dean was sick, really sick and he wasn’t sure when he was going to get better) and that he needs to get to work. Besides, he couldn’t stay cooped up in the house forever. So Sam lets Dean go. He lets Dean drive off in that Impala towards the center of town, ready to spend a day underneath the hood of some car.

Sam called Bobby halfway through the day, checking up on Dean, asking if Dean seemed different than normal. Bobby said no, that Dean was his same old self.

It seemed to get better, slowly it got better. There weren’t many times where Dean would disappear in his mind for hours (however Sam can’t forget about the number of times that he’ll wake in the middle of the night to an empty bed only to find Dean sitting on the couch, staring at the place where the coffee table used to be). Dean was cooking again, smiling again, laughing again.

He’ll join Sam in the shower and make Sam forget for just a moment that there was ever anything wrong. He’ll tickle him until Sam is begging for mercy before they go to bed. He’ll ask Dean about work and Dean will tell him about the different cars that he worked on that day. Everything almost seems normal.

It all seems too good to be true.

 

 

Dean sighed as he looked into the empty fridge. There wasn’t any more food in the house other than an old can of canned peaches in the back of the cabinet. Sam hadn’t been to the store in the last few days (and Dean’s been meaning to but he keeps forgetting) because he’s been looking after his incompetent ass for weeks now, looking at him with those shielded eyes as if Sam looked at him wrong then he would shatter.

No matter how many times he told Sam that he was fine, Sam wouldn’t believe him.

It drove Dean crazy but that was Sam. Always worried about everyone around him. However, the cabinets were empty and it was dinner time and Sam had neglected to go to the store and still Dean didn’t like Sam leaving on his own (Dean desperately tried to forget about the time that he woke up one morning to find that Sam wasn’t lying next to him. Those demons laughed at him, saying that Sam had finally wised up and left like he should have months ago only to find that Sam was in the living room reading one of his nerd books).

But they had finally eaten the last piece of stale bread and Sam was a growing boy and as much as he hated the prospect of going out into public, he needed to feed Sam. I mean, the garage was one thing but going down to the diner early in the evening, surrounded by people that he didn’t know, that made his skin crawl for whatever reason.

Sam needed to get out though and for more than just to get food. He needed to stretch those long legs of his, get some air, have a conversation with someone else. Sam hadn’t left the house since the incident, always at home, waiting for Dean to return.

Sam’s eyes lit up when Dean told him that they were going out and he pretended that he didn’t see the look of apprehension looming behind the excitement.

When the got to the diner, Sam ordered for them, much to Dean’s dismay. It was a salad for Sam with a chocolate milkshake ( _ vanilla ice cream with… Chocolate syrup _ Ellen finished for Sam.  _ Yeah, I got it, Sam. _ ) And then he ordered a double cheeseburger with bacon, extra cheese, extra onions for Dean.

Dean’s smile faltered for just a second. Not long enough for Sam to notice because he was too busy talking with Ellen but it did falter.

While they waited for their food, Sam wouldn’t stop talking about everything. It was amazing that something as small as eating out would turn Sam into an excited five year old boy who had to say everything that he thought of. Sam talked about the stuff that he was reading to get ready for college. He would be leaving for California in a couple of months and he couldn’t help but to read every little bit of information that there was to read. And then his little nerdy self couldn’t help but talk about it.

Dean wasn’t sure where Sam got the time to read all that stuff when he was watching Dean like a hawk but Dean sat there and listened to him ramble on.

It was refreshing, really, to see Sam like this. All animated and happy. For days, weeks, Sam did nothing but sit there and watch over Dean, the ghost of a frown permanent on his lips. Dean missed this. Missed seeing Sam as he should be. Young and happy and carefree. Not having to watch over a fucked up guy like himself. Lord knows why Sam actually put up with it.

Why he stayed.

He stopped talking for a second to take a bite of his salad and sip at the milkshake when Ellen brought them their food, her hand lingering on Dean’s shoulder for a moment before disappearing into the kitchen.

Sam nearly finished all of his salad when he stopped talking and set down his fork. He furrowed his brow for just a second before he met Dean’s gaze.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Sam asked, gesturing toward Dean’s burger.

Dean looked down at his plate and other than a half eaten fry, he hadn’t touched his food. Dean shrugged his shoulders and ducked his gaze, feeling like he had failed Sam somehow. “I guess not.” He replied.

Sam felt like he had been punched in the gut and he could feel the salad coming back up. From the moment that he met Dean, he always wanted to eat. He was never one to deny food.

There was a teacher that Sam had one time that said you knew when a dog was sick when they didn’t want to eat.

Sam looked down at the red checkered table cloth for just a moment before taking a deep breath. Dean already knew what Sam was going to ask and he didn’t have an answer. “When was the last time you ate, Dean?”

Dean shifted in his seat as he picked at a stray thread on the sleeve of his jacket. “I ate this morning. With you. Had the last piece of toast, remember? That’s why we’re here.”

He was lying. He knew it. Sam knew it. He didn’t eat with Sam that morning. He gave it all to Sam. Told him to eat up and not waste away. When he stopped and actually thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he ate a decent amount of food. But it wasn’t like he was avoiding eating, he just wasn’t hungry.

There was a difference.

Sam didn’t call him out on his lie but he didn’t drop the subject. “You have to eat, Dean. You can’t starve yourself.”

Dean hated the way that Sam was looking at him now, talking to him like he was going to break. Dean was fine. He was okay and he didn’t need to be handled like he was about to shatter!

“I know that, Sam, I’m just not hungry.” Dean snapped, trying his hardest to keep his voice steady.

“You haven’t eaten since we…” Sam stopped short, avoiding bringing back up the topic of burning his father. They hadn’t talked about it since it happened. Dean was biting down on his teeth, his jaw working.

“Sam, I don’t want to talk about this right now. I am not hungry. Now finish up your salad and drink your damn milkshake.”

But Sam was defiant as ever. He crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back in the booth. Dean fought off the way of irritation. Sam was acting like a child so set in his ways that he wouldn’t do anything Dean asked unless Dean did what he wanted him to do. Of which Dean wasn’t going to fold and make Sam happy.

“I’m not going to eat anything until you start eating.” Sam said simply.

“Sam, you’re being ridiculous.”

“No, Dean, I’m not. I’m being quite reasonable here. You need to eat something. I mean, look at yourself. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before but Dean, you’ve lost so much weight. You don’t look healthy anymore.”

Dean knew it was the truth, that Sam wasn’t just making it up to fit his story. He noticed it himself. His clothes didn’t quite fit anymore. They seemed to hang off his frame more now than they ever did. He wasn’t as bulky as he used to be.

He knew that his body was starved for food but he just wasn’t  _ hungry. _ He had no desire to eat.

“So, you’re my health coach now? Gonna make me start counting my calories?”

“If that’s what I have to do, then yes. I just want you to be healthy, Dean. I just want you to eat something.”

Dean scoffed, shaking his head as he pushed away the plate. “Yeah, well, fuck you, Sam. You’re making it sound like I’m purposely starving myself. Just stay out of my damn business.”

“Just eat the damn burger, Dean!” Sam finally snapped.

And then just like that, Dean was a small boy again, back to when he had just lost his mother. He was so young but his soul had aged.

He was sitting at the dining room table back in the old house, the one they still had before Dad lost it and moved them out to the middle of nowhere. Dad lost his job and he had to sell it to settle the debt that had slowly been growing.

There was a plate of mac and cheese in from of him but Dean made no move to eat. John sat at the head of the table, just watching his son. He had long given up begging and now he was sitting there, watching his son that looked so small who was starving himself.

They sat there for hours, the mac and cheese had long grown cold and John’s patience had all but disappeared.

“Dammit, Dean…” John’s fist landed hard on the table, making the silverware clatter. “Just eat the fucking food.”

Much like he did that evening in his old house, he bent his head and eat his meal without much protest. Sam sat on the other side of the booth, appetite suddenly gone as he watched Dean eat the whole burger and then all the fries on his plate.

When Dean finished, he wiped his hands and mouth on a napkin, before throwing it down on his plate. “You ready?” Dean asked.

Sam nodded his head, his milkshake now melted.

Later that night, Sam gets woken up to the sound of someone throwing up and he dragged himself into the bathroom to find Dean bent over the toilet, emptying the contents of his stomach, food that needed to stay down but couldn’t because he had eaten too much in too little of a time and it was all Sam’s fault. He forced Dean to eat it all when he couldn’t handle it. It would only make him sick.

When Dean was sound asleep back in bed, out cold, thanks to the sleeping pill that Sam had crushed and put in the water that Sam gave Dean, Sam took the Impala and went to the little twenty four hour grocery store and filled up the cart with food with the intent of weaning Dean back onto food.

Dean would protest whenever Sam tried to get him something to eat but it was never with much force. He ultimately ate what Sam gave him.

And with the reintroduction of food, Dean actually seemed to get better.

Everything started to fall into rhythm. Dean continued to work at the garage and Sam was able to go back to school and started back at the library.

 

 

Sam was due to work late that evening and Dean got off work early, Bobby once again deciding to close up early. The house was quiet when Dean got home, void of the one person that he got used to being around. It was the third night this week that Sam had to work late and Dean couldn’t help but feel like Sam was working more to collect as much money as he could before something bad happened.

He shook the thought off.

But the thought of sitting at home alone, drinking ‘til Sam got back didn’t have any kind of appeal to it, so Dean wrote out a quick note saying that he was at the bar if Sam happened to get home before him and he shrugged himself back into his jacket and he was headed back into town.

He hadn’t been at the bar in a while, both for work and just social appearances. An old man named Rufus Turner owned the place and he was a tough son of a bitch that took nothing from anyone.

Good friends with Bobby (that’s how he got the job in the first place, Bobby referred him when he needed some extra cash) however those two bickered like an old married couple when they were around each other.

Rufus let Dean work whenever he needed, put him on the payroll for a few hours and he never did ask many questions.

When Dean stepped through the threshold of the small bar, Rufus spotted him immediately and proceeded to scold Dean for telling him that he was going to be able to work for a few hours and then never showing up for his shift, causing him to work double. And then he proceeded to pour Dean a glass of beer fresh from the tap and told him to have a seat because he looked like shit.

Dean can’t help but laugh to himself as he sat down at the bar, taking a sip of the frothy liquid.

It was good to be back out in public, out like this. Some of his buddies at the garage who worked a few days out of the week were all there, made small talk with him before they moved on somewhere else. Rufus made sure that Dean’s glass was full and it was good until Rufus rested in front of Dean and tried to catch up what’s happened over the past few weeks to make him disappear.

“Oh you know, the same old shit.” Dean said with hopefully a convincing smile. “Working down at the garage and trying to pay the bills.”

Rufus narrowed his eyes but he brushed it off with a smile.

“Yeah, and what about your daddy? How’s he doing?” Rufus asked.

The blood in Dean’s veins ran cold to the point that he was sure that they were frozen. Rufus stood there, looking at Dean for an answer and Dean couldn’t answer because certainly that meant that Rufus knew. No one asked him about his father. He couldn’t hear anything above the roaring in his ears.

“He’s… uhh… he’s fine.” Dean lied into the bottom of his glass, trying to keep his voice even. He couldn’t swallow.

“Really?” Rufus pressed or at least it felt like he was pressing. It felt like he was digging his thumbs into Dean’s brain, trying to get him to confess. “I haven’t seen him around town for a while and it’s not like him to miss his weekly Thursday night poker game with the boys.” It was true. Every Thursday John went out to play poker with some of the other vets that settled down in this godforsaken town.

“Yeah, no, he’s fine. He’s just… he came down with a pretty bad cold.” More lies. More lies for Rufus to call him out on. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get home and leave before the lies buried him alive. “Listen, Rufus, it was great talking to you and all but I’ve… I’ve really got to get home.” Dean said abruptly and before Rufus can say much more, Dean’s already pulled out a twenty and threw it down on the bartop, out the bar in the blink of an eye.

His hands were shaking as he walked towards the Impala, every second or so he looked over his shoulder towards the door of the bar, certain that someone was going to follow him out.

They knew. Each and every guy in there knew and they were just waiting for the right moment to take him away.

To take Sam away.

Sam who was going to go to California, go to college, save himself from becoming just another small town nobody. They were going to take Sam away and ruin all the dreams that he had worked so hard to achieve. And it would have been all his fault, simply because Sam had touched Dean.

Dean’s in the middle of packing a small duffle bag when Sam comes home, arms full of candy and a couple of movies because it was a Friday night and there wasn’t anything better to do.

Dean doesn’t hear Sam call his name. The roaring, the laughing inside his head is too loud and the only thing that he can think about is to get out. Get out of this house, this town, this state. Away from everything, away from the lies and the memories and…

“Dean!” Sam all but yells coming to stop in front of Dean.

Sam grabbed a hold of Dean’s wrist, trying to get him to stop for two minutes but Dean struggles against Sam.

“Let me go, Sam.” Dean begged. “Please, you’ve got to let me go.”

Sam doesn’t let go. Instead he digs his fingernails deeper into the soft, pale flesh of Dean’s wrist until he broke the skin and still he held on tighter. Dean whined, once but then he stopped fighting completely. He stills underneath Sam’s hold, his eyes wide and more alive than Sam’s ever seen.

“Talk to me, Dean.” Sam said in a hushed voice. “What’s wrong? Why are you packing?”

“They know.” Dean answered back, the light in his eyes being replaced with fear. He tried to yank his arms away, having been reminded of his task but Sam’s grip was made of iron. Dean whined again as Sam’s nails dug even further into his wrist.

“What do they know?”

“They just know, Sam. They know about Dad, about what I did to him. They know and they’re taunting me with it, just waiting for me to crack and then they’re gonna take you away and I can’t… I can’t have them do that.” Dean was whispering. Why was he whispering? “I need to leave, Sam.”

There were so many things that Sam needed to address in Dean’s statement and he didn’t have enough time to address them all because no matter how much sense Sam made, Dean wouldn’t believe him. So he started with the simplest one.

“You were just going to leave without me?” Sam asked.

The fear turned to guilt and suddenly the roaring in Dean’s eyes died because he was. He was going to leave without Sam, leave him stuck here in this town while he tried to escaped.

“I wasn’t…”

“Thinking?” Sam finished for him. “Yeah, I know because you are stupid to think that I would just let you go like that. It’s going to be me and you until the end, okay?”

Dean nodded and he believed it. He really did.

Sam let go of Dean’s wrist and Dean went straight back to packing, throwing the clothes that was on his bed haphazardly into the bag. “You need to pack a bag too.” Dean said when he saw that Sam was just standing there, not doing anything.

But Sam shook his head. “We’re not leaving tonight, Dean.”

“What?” Dean paused his packing.

“We can’t because it’ll look too suspicious. And besides, we can’t just pack everything that we need into a small bag five minutes before we leave. We’re bound to forget something.” Dean opened his mouth as if he was going to ask something else but Sam beat him too it. “We’ll leave in a couple of days, okay? Just let me get some things together then we’ll go.”

Dean looked down at the pair of jeans that he had in his hands and then back up at Sam before nodding.

Dean’s restless the next couple of days, always looking over his shoulder when he’s working at the garage because he’s certain that someone knows. He told Bobby that day that he and Sam were going to take a trip to California, scout out the area (per Sam’s request because you want to give probable cause for leaving) and Bobby pretended to be annoyed at that, that now he was going to have to work extra without Dean there or worse… leave the garage in the hands of one of the other guys but he smiled, gave Dean the last couple weeks worth of pay and told him to have fun.

They left at night. Sam handled everything. Everything from counting how much money they had, to where they were going, to what they needed to pack. Dean was grateful for it and when the final hour arrived, he was actually nervous.

Days of planning and was finally here. He was going to leave the house, this town, everyone behind and start a life, a new life with Sam in California where he could start his own garage and Sam could go to law school and everything would be okay. It was a little surreal actually. Everyone in this town spends their whole life talking about leaving and here Dean was, about to leave.

Sam packs the last of the bags into the back of the Impala (not that they had a lot in the first place and when he comes around to the front of the car, he saw that Dean was standing next to the place that they burned John.

The burn marks are still there on the ground, where the fire scorched the grass but that’s the only thing that remains of his father.

Dean isn’t sure what he’s feeling. He wants to scream and shout and say ‘fuck you’ to the old man ‘fuck you for hold me down for so long. Well it looks like you’re the one staying and I’m the one leaving’ but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

For better or for worse, John was always there for him. Always and Dean could remember a time that John wasn’t always like he was the last few years of his life. He could remember when mom was still alive and they would be out in the front yard, playing catch. John would lift Dean up on his shoulders and Dean would stick his arms out like he was an airplane and they would run around the house, Dean making these plane sounds until Mom told them to stop and they would collapse to the ground in a fit of laughter.

John was just a man that had given up a part of his soul to the woman he loved and when she died, that piece of him died too.

Of course, that doesn’t excuse John for his actions, the crude words and the demoralizing but Dean understood.

This town makes everyone go crazy if they stick around long enough.

“Good riddance, Dad.” Dean finally said after a while, taking a sip of the whiskey out of the flask that he had in his jacket pocket and then tipped it over, allowing the liquor to seep into the ground as a final offering.

“You ready?” Dean asked as he climbed into the Impala with Sam and Sam was bubbling with excitement.

“Yes!” Sam exclaimed.

The car roared to life, illuminating the house in a yellow light. Dean swore he could see the shadow of his father standing just within the window, waving at him. But maybe it was just the curtain blowing in the wind because when he blinked, the figure was gone.

“So… where we going, Sam?” Dean asked, pulling out of the drive.

“Mexico.” Sam answered.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean stalled for a second, his hand stuck somewhere between reverse and drive. “Mexico?” Dean repeated. “But I thought that we were going to California, you know, Stanford?”

“I’m not going.” And wanna talk about a blindside, that was it.

“Not going? But, Sam, you worked so hard to get in…”

“And I know, Dean but I don’t…” Sam ran a nervous hand through his hair. He had been so sure of this. So sure of just giving up the one chance to make a name for himself to run away with this boy that he was hopelessly in love with but now, with Dean questioning him like this, he wasn’t so sure anymore. “I don’t want that anymore. I just wanna be with you.”

The words completely floored Dean. He wanted to fight it, scream and kick and make Sam see that he needed to go to college but there was something so incredibly endearing about the thought that someone would give up everything just to stay with you.

So Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat, put the car in drive and took off into the night, feeling more free than he had in years.

Even freer than he did on the streets at night racing towards nothing.

“Mexico it is.”

Rock music blared through the speakers. Dean rolled down the windows, the cool night air rushing into the cab of the car as he drummed along to the music. Sam hadn’t stopped smiling since they hit the highway, watching how it seemed that the more miles of asphalt that the Impala ate up, the more Dean seemed to relax. He seemed to grow younger, the pale moonlight softening his features.

This is what freedom felt like. The ability to go as fast as you wanted, as far as you wanted without anyone asking anything.

They would take their time going down to Mexico. There was no reason to drive straight through despite the fact that Dean could make it in fifteen hours, give or take. They were going to enjoy this, enjoy each other. Stop at every crappy diner, find out what place had the best pie before crossing the border where they could literally be anyone.

Wake up every morning on the beach, feel the sea area.

Dean could almost taste it.

They’ve been on the road for not even thirty minutes, the town nothing more than a distant memory in their rearview mirror, when Dean groaned inwardly. Blue and red lights suddenly illuminated the night sky behind them. Dean knew that he was pushing the speed limit but he honestly didn’t expect anyone to be out patrolling the streets at this time of night. The cop car behind him proved his theory wrong.

Dean shot Sam a smile before pulled off to the shoulder of the road and grabbed his license from his wallet.

Both Sam and Dean had to avert their eyes from the bright light of the flashlight that the cop pointed into the car when he came up and looked through the window.

“Problem, officer?” Dean asked, sweet annoyance laced his voice. He just wanted to get out of here. Leave Kansas. Leave everything that the town meant. This cop was doing nothing more than stopping his progress. Just write the fucking ticket and Dean’ll be on his way only to disappear forever.

“Were you aware of how fast you were going?” The cop asked lowering the flashlight a few inches.

Dean sighed. “Yes, I’m aware that I was going a little bit over the speed limit.”

The cop bit down on his jaw, his wide brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes, the water from above falling down on him dripping from the rim. Dean wasn’t sure when it started raining.

Dean watched as the man looked him over and then shifted his gaze over to the passenger seat where Sam was sitting. Dean’s stomach flipped inside out when the cop licked his lips, still looking at Sam.

Looking back at Dean, he asked, “May I have your licence and registration please?”

Dean thrust it towards the cop and the cop took it, reading it over before handing it back to Dean, looking back into the cab of the car, still eyes focused on Sam.

“How old are you son?” The officer asked.

“I’m… uhh… seventeen.” Sam answered, looking as if he wanted to melt back into the seat.

Then it seemed as if the cops demeanor completely changed. He seemed to pull himself to his full height, that smile on his lips made Dean feel even sicker.

“You do realize that it is illegal to engage in sexual activities with a minor, Mr. Winchester?” However the way that the cop said it made it clear that it was a question of Dean’s knowledge on the subject.

Sam opened his mouth, probably trying to defuse the situation but Dean shot him a look to keep his mouth shut.

“And the offense double when you engage with homosexual activity with a minor. Sir, I’m gonna need you to step out of the car. You are under arrest according to the sodomy laws that were implemented by the state of Kansas.” Dean’s stomach was in knots now. Sam was practically shaking in his seat. The officer then turned back to Sam, bending over at the waist to see him a little better. “Son, Imma need you to step out too. You are also under arrest.”

Dean scoffed. “Bullshit.” He spit. “On what grounds.”

The cop stood and looked up at Dean. “On the grounds that I caught him soliciting sex.” The cop snapped. “And on the grounds that I say so, you got that?”

Dean stared at the cop, straightening himself to his full height. “Fuck you. You can’t arrest him, you have no evidence.”

“Get out of the car or I’ll put a bullet in your head. And just so you know, I am well within my rights to do so being that I am an officer of the law.” The cop smiled at him before looking at Sam who was unbuckling himself. Dean watched the way that the cop dragged his eyes down Sam’s body.

Dean’s fist closed around the wheel of the Impala and he briefly wondered how solid of a hit he could get in before the cop went to grab his gun.

“Okay.” Sam says quietly beside Dean and when Dean looked over at Sam, he was silently pleading with him to just go along with this, begging him to keep his mouth shut and his fist to himself and all it does is make the fire in Dean’s stomach grow even hotter.

However as he looked at Dean, he nodded once, agreeing to do this the quiet way even though every ounce of him told him to fight.

Dean opened the door to the Impala and the cop roughly pulled him out of the car, shoving him up against the side of it. “That’s right.” The cop sneered. “Doing what you’re told, just like a good little boy.” The cop whispered into Dean’s ear.

Dean clenched his jaw, trying to make his vision clear but all he can see is red. Red and anger and rage and the overwhelming urge to crack the cop’s head open with his fist. Every second that passed, with every breath, it only got worse. The cop chuckled to himself before he turned away from Dean and turned his attention to Sam who had now walked around the car to stand next to Dean.

“You certainly are pretty.” The cop breathed against Sam’s skin as he shoved Sam up against the side of the Impala just as hard as he did with Dean. The cops chest is flush up against Sam’s back and Sam looked over at Dean, catching his gaze.

His eyes were wide in fear.

“Spread ‘em.” The cop demanded.

“Touch him and you’ll be dead before you hit the ground.” Dean said, not a threat, a promise as he backed off the Impala and took a step towards the cop.

“Dean, please, don’t.” Sam warned.

However the cop seemed completely unfazed by Dean’s threat. If anything. He seemed a little bored. “Yeah? What are you going to do?” The cop asked as he drew his weapon and pointed it at Dean’s head. Point blank range. A single gunshot to the head and it would be Dean that would be dead before he hit the ground. But Dean didn’t flinch. “Get back on the car.” The cop demanded and Dean didn’t move.

Sam looked at Dean when he didn’t move.

“Get back on the wall or I’ll paint your car with the inside of your head.” Dean at least had it in him to nearly laugh at how cliche the cop sounded. He kept a hold of Sam’s gaze as he turned back towards the car, his jaw locked to the point that it hurt.

The cop turned back to Sam. “Gotta check you for weapons, sweetheart.” The cop said as he dragged his free hand down the front of Sam’s chest. His other arm outstretched keeping the gun on Dean. The cop’s hand keeps sliding lower and lower until it disappeared between Sam’s spread legs.

Dean doesn’t miss the hitch in Sam’s breathing when the cop pulls at the button of Sam’s jeans, popping it open and then pulled the zipper down. Sam shut his eyes closed tight as the cop slipped his hand into the front of Sam’s underwear, cold, rough fingers wrapping themselves around Sam’s soft dick.

Dean’s not even certain if he’s breathing at this point. All he wants, all he needs is for this cop to be dead. To be on the ground begging for his life, silent pleas for him to stop slipping from his mouth until he can no longer think of anything else again.

Dean is going to fucking kill him.

The cop is dead.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

“You want it bad, don’t you?” The cop said. He rubbed against Sam as he dragged his tongue from the base of Sam’s neck to his ear. “Whore.” The cop punctuated the word with hard thrust of his hips against Sam’s ass. 

“You son of a bitch,” Dean’s spited. “I’m going to kill you, I swear to God, you’re gonna fucking die.” Dean snarled and the cop doesn’t even look up, he just laughed.

Sam looked at Dean, warning him not to do anything stupid.

And Dean can’t understand how Sam can just stand there and take it, let this… this  _ pig _ touch him in that way and say absolutely nothing.

The cop pulled his hand from between Sam’s spread legs and slipped it into the back of Sam’s jeans. He rubbed his finger against Sam’s hole, then pressed into him dry, fast, unforgiving and pushed it in as deep as he can. Dean watched as Sam shut his eyes tight and held his breath as the cops hand started moving. As he finger fucks Sam, his hand begins to sag, his grip on his gun loosened.

All around them, the rain pours.

Before the cop knows what’s going on, Dean smashed his head against the cop’s. Then the cop is  on the ground and Dean’s got blood streaming down his face. The cop reached for his gun. Dean delivered a sharp kick to the cop’s skull, then the cop isn’t moving anymore. 

Just like that he goes completely still.

“Find the keys,” Dean growled. Sam kneeled down and searched the cop’s pockets, coming up with the small silver key, a triumphant smile on his face. “Get me out of these things.” Dean said as he turned around.

Sam stands as quickly as he can, unlocking Dean from the cuffs and Dean rubbed at the already raw skin around his wrist. The metal had cut into the flesh.

The cop choked for air and spit out some blood. Dean tucked the cuffs into his pocket and dropped down, straddling the cop’s chest. The cop makes some kind of sound as Dean pressed all the oxygen out of his lungs. Then Dean’s fist cracked against bone, again and again, there’s blood everywhere. He kept hitting him until the cop went limp beneath him.

And even then, Dean kept hitting him.

Sam stood back, watching as Dean’s knuckles got split open from the cops face and how the cop hardly even looked human anymore. There were pathetic sounds falling from the cops mouth, gurgles of air and Dean. Kept. Going.

He stopped when he felt Sam’s hand close around his shoulder.

“Dean, stop.” Sam said quietly and Dean did.

He couldn’t feel the pain in his knuckles yet however he was sure that was to come as he pulled himself up from the cop. Honestly, Dean wasn’t sure if the guy was still alive. It didn’t look like he was breathing. No skin off Dean’s back if he wasn’t.

Sam helped Dean drag the cop over the his cruiser and put him in the front seat.

Then Dean walked back over to the Impala, reaching into the back of the trunk to pull out a bottle of fire accelerant and he quickly dosed both the outside and inside of the car, being sure that he got enough on the cop and over those dirty fingers of his before he pulled out a match, struck it and dropped it on the car.

Then they ran back to the Impala with that fire burning behind them.

Dean drives until Sam is nearly passed out in the seat next to him, body over taken with exhaustion. They stop in a little small town with a cheap, run down motel and Dean paid with cash so the desk attendant didn’t ask too many questions about why Dean’s hands were cracked open and bloodied.

Dean let Sam take the first shower and Sam stayed in there, scrubbing his body clean, trying to get rid of those fingerprints that were lining his body. He felt dirty no matter how many times he ran the soap up and down his body.

When Sam stepped out of the shower and into the bedroom, Dean tried to duck into the bathroom without looking at Sam.

It was all his fault that Sam got hurt, that he was touched in that way and while Sam said that he was okay, that the cop didn’t do any real damage, the cop had. The cop had taken Sam’s body and used it and…

Sam stepped in front of him, grabbing Dean’s hands, his skinny fingers running over the broken skin.

“I don’t blame you, Dean.” Sam whispered and Dean didn’t look at Sam. Sam moved his head to where it was in Dean’s line of vision. “You didn’t make that cop do this to me, okay? You didn’t do anything.”

“I shoulda protected you.” Dean argued because that’s his job. Sam was still a minor, a fucking child and Dean was the adult and he needed to protect Sam and he couldn’t even do that.

“He had a gun on you, Dean. And with how questionable his morals were, I’m sure that he would have shot you if you had tried to do something and then you wouldn’t have been able to stop him when you did. He could have…” But Sam shuddered, a thought crossing his mind that he didn’t want to voice and Dean understood because there were a million of those thoughts running through his head. The what if’s. “You did everything you could and you saved me from him. You saved countless over people from him. Okay? I’m fine.”

Sam had used up all the hot water but that was fine. The cold water made him feel more human, chilling him to the bone.

Dean woke Sam up early in the morning and while Sam’s body craved more sleep, he understood the urgency in Dean’s reasoning. They were still too close to town, to close to the cop and the burned car and the more distance that they could put between the car and them, the better off they would be.

Dean stopped at the Kansas Oklahoma stateline. It was late into the afternoon, somewhere in the early evening and once again Dean paid for the room with cash. Then he gave Sam the key to the room and told Sam that he was going to go down to the liquor store right down the road.

He needed a good, strong drink.

Sam shot him a concerned look but didn’t say anything as he let himself into the room, probably off to take another shower and get the stench of being on the road all day off his body. That was going to be the next thing that Dean did when he got back to the motel. Shower, eat and then drink himself into an alcohol induced slumber.

He brought back a burger and a salad for Sam (who was rather grateful for it) and after Dean took his shower, he stayed up, nursing the bottle in his hand while Sam slept soundly on the small mattress.

They stayed in that border town for several days and the longer that Dean stayed there, the more paranoid he got that someone was going to somehow know that he had killed a cop. He stayed in the motel room, drinking from the bottle, listening to Sam beg him to go outside, get some fresh air but he never did.

“You wanna go outside, you can go outside.” Dean said in an alcohol gruff voice, turning back to the reruns on the TV.

For the third night in a row, he’s not sure when he passed out other than the fact that he sees the cops face staring down at him, begging for his life as Dean continued to crack his skull open over and over again.

 

 

_ Fuck. _

He woke to a massive headache, nearly making his eyes vibrate inside his head as he looked over to the bedside table, seeing the one thing that he was looking for. There’s the half empty bottle of whiskey sitting underneath the cheap lamp and he grabbed for it, bringing it to his lips to take a sip. The alcohol hits his empty stomach and immediately he feels like he’s going to be sick. He hasn’t eaten anything in a few days, other than that burger the only thing he’s had was alcohol and his body was now turning against him, begging for something else.

However he drank as much as he could until he was gasping for breath and still it didn’t feel like enough.

_ Oh, there we go, get fucked up before it’s even noon. That always works out so fucking well. Can’t handle anything on your own, just like your daddy said. Can’t even handle your own thoughts. Fucking weak. Sam’s going to be real proud of you when he gets back to the motel. _

Sam, the one good thing that he has left. Sam. At least he still has Sam.

_ Yeah?  _ His mind taunted.  _ He’s only here because you dragged him away from the safe life he could have had at Stanford. He was going to run from you because you’re a fuck up. Run straight into the hands of the authorities. Tell them that you fucked him. That you touched him. He’s just a kid. A fucking kid. _

No. It wasn’t… it wasn’t like that.

_ Age of fucking consent, asshole. He’s a minor, a kid. You should have walked away but you didn’t.  _ His mind laughed at him.  _ All you wanted to do was fuck him up just so you wouldn’t be as broken. _

I didn’t… that’s not why I did it. Just leave me alone. I didn’t know…

_ Don’t try to deny it. You know why you did it and you know that’s it wrong. So wrong that everyone around you can see it except for youself. You honestly think that just because he loves you, that he  _ says  _ that he wants you, that it’s suddenly okay? _

It’s different. Dean whined.

The voice just laughed.  _ Is it? _

Dean brought the bottle back up to his lips, taking another long drink from it. He wanted to go back to sleep, needed to go back to sleep, escape to a place where his mind couldn’t get to him. He let the bottle slip to the ground, laying back against the pillows.

_ How is what you did any different than what that cop did? Huh? The cop said that Sam wanted it just like you say that he wants it so how do you know?  _ Dean doesn’t even try to reply back.  _ What if someone has their hands on Sam right now? What if they’re taking him hard and fast and he’s screaming your name but you’re too fucked up, too caught up in your own damn self pity to hear him? You say that your job is to protect him and yet you let him go out there all on his own. What if he’s dead? _

Dean shook off the thought because it was the only thing that he could do. He wasn’t going to give into the voices. He couldn’t. That’s what he did the last time they started screaming and Sam, he had to pull him back from the edge.  _ But what if… _ The thought trailed off, cut off…  _ dead in a dit… _ Dean can feel the alcohol pulling him into sleep.

Finally… finally his thoughts disappear and he relaxes back into the bed.

When he wakes up for the second time that day, Sam is back, sitting at one of the hard, uncomfortable chairs by the window, watching Dean with this sad, concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked when he say that Dean was awake and Dean managed not to scoff at that. Obviously he was not okay.

“Yeah, Sam, I’m just fucking peachy.” Dean rasping, shifting to sit up on the bed.

“Dean…” Sam says, low and soft as he stood up from the chair and walked over to where Dean was lying. “Will you at least talk to me? I mean, you haven’t left the room since we’ve gotten here and that was three days ago.” A soft hand touched his hip. “You haven’t eaten anything either.” Gentle circles are rubbed through the blanket. “You can’t keep doing this. You need to eat.”

“‘M not hungry.” Dean said and just the mere thought of food made his stomach turn. There was bile at the back of his tongue. The bed shifts as Sam leaned over and picked up the now empty bottle, setting it on the bedside table.

“I see you hit this while I was gone.” Sam said, sounding disappointed almost. “I wish you would just talk to me. Let me know what you’re thinking, or at least, let me know that you still want to live.”

Dean shifts, trying to sit up even more when he feels his stomach come up his throat and he clamps a hand over his mouth as he scrambled off the bed and into the bathroom. The cold tile cuts into his knees as he dry heaves into the toilet. There is nothing to come up.

“Hey.” Sam settles down behind Dean, a soft hand petting his back. “Hey, you’re okay.” Sam said as he ran his hand through Dean’s short hair, the hair softer now being that he’s hadn’t have gel in it for days and he’s slept on it.

Dean heaves once more before he spits into the toilet, wishing that he could brush his teeth. He shifts to lean up against the bathroom wall, looking at the floor.

Sam won’t speak until Dean does.

“You know you don’t have to stay with me, right?” Dean says quietly, his blunt fingernail digging at the grout in the tile.

“What?”

“You know you can leave.” Dean repeats. “I’m not forcing you into anything.” And this time he brings himself to look up at sam. “You can go back to Stanford if you wanted to. You know that, right?”

“What? I mean, yeah, of course!” Sam exclaims shifting so that he can get closer to Dean. He’s nearly on top of Dean, hand resting on his thigh, faces so close that Sam can count the freckles that are peppered across Dean’s skin. “But I wouldn’t ever want to leave you. What’s this all about? Is this about the cop thing?”

Dean ignores Sam question. “I’m not forcing you into anything. You have the right to say no if you want to, right?” Dean breaks Sam’s gaze and looks back down at the floor. There’s one tile that raised slightly higher than any of the others. That’s bound to be a safety issue, Dean thinks to himself.

“Of course I know that.” Sam said,brow furrowed. “But I have no reason to say no. I mean, I like want you all the fucking time. We shouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

“I didn’t force you that time, did I, Sam?” Dean asked. “I mean, I wasn’t like that…”

“Stop! Just stop, Dean!” Sam grabbed a hold of Dean’s face. “I don’t know what brought this on but just stop. You didn’t do anything that I didn’t want you to do. Never have. In fact, if anybody forced anyone, it would be me. You said that you wanted to wait until I was eighteen and I pushed you to do it earlier, okay? You have been nothing but good to me Dean Winchester.”

That night Dean went to bed with Sam tucked up underneath him.


	11. Chapter 11

Ellen used to say that the best medicine for anything was sleep. That and a big old bowl of soup. When he woke up sometime later the next afternoon, Sam stilled tucked up underneath him, he felt different, like there was something that was lifted off his chest during the night and it left him liberated.

And for the first night since the cop, Dean actually felt rested. There weren’t any voices screaming inside his head, battling to cut him down anymore.

The only thing he heard, felt, saw was Sam blinking awake next to him, a lazy smile on his face.

“Mornin’.” Sam said, voice gruff with sleep. He stretched out, long limbs pulling his body long and taunt, making the kid seem even taller before he curled back into himself, into Dean, yawning once again.

It’s afternoon but Dean doesn’t correct him. Just like Sam doesn’t ask Dean how he’s doing, knows that any answer will be better than how he had been just the day before. Nor did Sam ask why all the sudden Dean seemed to be back to himself, no longer seeking out the burn of alcohol, grabbing his head like there was something pounding into it.

Besides, Dean killed a man. This time actually killed him. Cracked his skull open, kicked him and punched him until he wasn’t breathing and then burned his body. It wasn’t an accident. It’s murder in every sense of the word and if the cops find out that it’s him, they’ll kill him. Call for the firing squad or the electric chair, whatever comes quicker and no matter how much time passes, that’s not something that you’ll be okay after.

Dean takes a shower as he convinced himself to get out of bed. He desperately needed on, body covered in the stench of alcohol and three days worth of body odor.

The hot water felt like it was cleansing him, washing away everything bad until nothing but raw, pink skin was left.

They leave the motel sometime around dinner, stomachs dictating their destination. There’s a diner just on the outside of town, the kind that you go up to the window and order and they either bring food back out to your car or one of the various picnic tables that they had scattered around.

The burgers were good; the milkshake, not so much. Both Sam and Dean were disappointed to see that it wasn’t made the way that Ellen makes them and instead was made with just chocolate ice cream but they drank it nonetheless, stomachs full and nothing else left on their disposable plates.

It had been raining for the past couple of days, ever since they arrived to the small town and for the first time the clouds faded away and let the stars shine through making everything around them shiny. Stars twinkled above them and stars twinkled in the puddles on the ground.

They’re sitting at one of the picnic tables toward the edge of the group where the yellow light from the lamps and the small building doesn’t quite reach them. They’re turned around, backs pressed up against the side of the table, watching as families and couples come and go, filling their stomachs just as they did. There’s no rush to go anywhere and they’re both perfectly content staying in their own little self built form of paradise on the edge of society.

Because that’s where they were sitting. One foot in the light and two hands in the dark.

They moved at some point, moved to where they were both sitting on top of the wooden picnic table, Sam sitting between Dean’s legs and every time someone looks their way, Sam gives them this look that is just asking them to come over and say something.

They never do.

One of Dean’s hand is settled on Sam’s hip, squeezing every now and then, the feeling comforting to Sam. His other hand is pushed up underneath Sam’s threadbare t-shirt, rubbing and tracing at the hard muscle and soft skin that seemed to burn at his touch. Every now and then Dean’s hand would venture further up, fingertips just barely brushing over Sam’s nipple and Sam would gasp, body twitching towards the touch.

Sam is leaning back up against Dean, his head resting on Dean’s shoulder as his eyes were trained to the dark sky, looking at the stars and watching to comets. Dean swayed a little bit, drunk on the moment and Sam moved with him.

Everything is slow and warm and they both feel like they’re floating.

Dean started kissing at the spot on the back of Sam’s neck where it met the base of his spine and Sam rolled his head to the side, exposing his neck to Dean’s lips, letting them wander over the skin lazily, not really memorizing anything. Sam’s arms feel like they’re made of lead when he lifted his arm and reached behind him, fingers settling at the base of Dean’s neck, running through the short hair there.

Dean’s lips move around his body, hovering over his ear as he tells him to watch the sky, see how those star shine for Sam and only Sam and Sam shivered at Dean’s breath on his ear, at his words.

When it all gets to be too much for Sam, when touching the base of Dean’s neck isn’t enough for him, he turned his head, just barely and met Dean’s lips.

There’s nothing special about the kiss. It’s nothing like the one that they had outside the diner so many moons ago back in that small town of Lebanon. It’s not like any of the other kisses that they shared. It’s something so entirely new and yet so painstakingly familiar. It’s slow and clumsy and it has Sam begging for more.

He always needs more with Dean.

Dean moved his hand back down Sam’s stomach, tracing small patterns across his flesh and Dean kept going until he tucked his fingers right within the waistband of Sam’s jeans, keeping them there as he kissed Sam.

Sam shifted against Dean, pushing up against him as he reached for Dean’s hand, pushing it farther down into his jeans. He can feel Dean chuckles against him, mutter ‘woah, easy tiger’ before kissing him even harder than before. No one around them really matters anymore. It’s just the two of them on an old picnic table, so stupidly in love.

Sam made a happy sound when Dean rubbed his fingers along the sensitive flesh there, hidden below cheap denim, just barely skimming along the base of his dick. Sam moaned loudly when Dean did it again, the barest of a touch and he broke the kiss, huffing into the night air, pressing Dean’s hand against him harder.

Dean only chuckled, pulling his hand from Sam’s jeans, lips still at his neck, along his jaw.

“Not here, kid.” Dean said in a low voice, deep and it sent all kinds of shivers through Sam’s body that even Dean can feel.

They leave that border town, the diner becoming nothing in their minds as they drove out into the night, further south, farther away from Kansas and closer to Mexico.

Dean pulled off on the side of the road a little while later. There’s nothing around them but the crisp night air and corn fields and cicadas chirping around them. The stars seem to shine brighter above them.

Sam pressed himself against the side of the car, laughing as Dean pressed him against the metal frame even harder, attacking his mouth, his face, his neck with kisses. Sam’s been waiting for this ever since they left that roadside diner and there’s no shame when he rolled his hips against Dean’s thigh that was pressed up between his legs. Dean smiled, kissing Sam once more before he dropped to his knees, the wet pavement cutting through his jeans.

He pushed up the hem of Sam’s shirt just high enough that he can kiss at the sliver of skin above Sam’s jeans. He bit his way along Sam’s body as his fingers worked at the button of Sam’s jeans, undoing them and with one giant hand, pushed them down Sam’s body.

Sam leaned his head back to where he was resting against the top of the Impala, eyes wide open as he stared up at the sky. Dean mouthed at Sam’s cock through the dark cotton fabric of his underwear before he pushed that down too. Sam shivered, one part from the cool air and two parts from the fact that Dean can’t seem to stop kissing him. Dean kissed everywhere he could.

He paused for just a moment and looked up at Sam who looked down at him, lips parted as he waited. Then Dean grabbed his half hard dick, closing his fingers around it as he peppered kisses down and back up before he pressed one to the head. Sam is hardly breathing as he waited and then Dean just smiled. Once again he smiled.

Sam threw his head back when Dean licked along the underside of him, just the tip of his tongue but it was enough to make Sam groan. There was a low fire burning in Sam’s gut and yet Dean takes his time, working Sam with small stokes and lazy licks.

It isn’t until that Sam is hard and throbbing in the palm of Dean’s hand that he took Sam in his mouth, nearly swallowing him in one go like Dean’s mouth was built for this purpose. Built to make Sam lose his mind. Sam grabbed at something, at the frame of the car, the door handle, the hair on top of Dean’s head, anything that will ground him. Dean did something with his tongue that caused Sam to pull at Dean’s hair a little harder and Dean made a sound in the back of his throat that Sam felt all throughout his body.

Off in the distance, Sam thinks that he can see the headlights of a car. Two little pinpricks on the horizon but they’re so far away and Dean is right here and it doesn’t really matter.

Dean grabbed at Sam’s hips harder, pulling him closer to him, further into his mouth. His nose is pressed up against Sam and Dean can hardly breathe but he doesn’t really care.

When Sam came, it surprised him. His whole body tensed up as he grabbed a hold of Dean’s hair even harder and he came down Dean’s throat. Dean didn’t move until Sam stopped shaking. He stroked him through it, licking at him, taking everything and giving himself in return.

Dean climbed to his feet and wiped his mouth on the hem of his shirt which Sam made a face at but Dean then bent his head and kissed Sam. Hard and insistent and Sam can taste himself on Dean’s tongue.

Dean settled himself back in between Sam’s body and Sam snaked his hands down in between them and pulled out Dean’s hard dick, taking him in his hand and made quick work of pulling Dean apart against them.

When they’re both sated and as happy as they both can be, Dean pulled back and looked at the beautiful boy that he had pressed up against his car, flush coating his face.

“What do you say we go to Mexico, now?” Dean whispered.

Sam only smiled.

That night they slept underneath a couple of blankets that were shoved in the trunk of the Impala, curled up against each other on the backseat. It’s cramped and neither one of them can really move but they both sleep harder than they had in years.

The morning sun poured in through the window of the Impala and Dean woke up to an elbow in his face. Sam immediately started apologizing, shifting in the seat to get a better look at Dean and then Sam ended up on the floor with an muffled grunt.

“Anyone ever tell ya that you’re fucking loud in the morning?” Dean grunted as he stretched out in the cramped space.

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, moving to open the door to the Impala and out.

The morning dew coated the corn stalks, making everything a sparkling good but it all paled in comparison to the gold that was reflected off Sam’s eyes when Dean crawled out and saw Sam stretching out, a strip of skin shown right above the top of his jeans that Dean all of the sudden desperately wanted lick.

“Where are we going today?” Sam asked when Dean climbed into the front seat and he followed after him.

Dean shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know. Just drive ‘til we want to stop.”

So that’s what they do. Dean drove until the car needed to be filled up with gas and well the town was cute enough and there was a motel that seemed to have cheap enough rooms and they decided to spend the night. They weren’t more than a couple hours into the state of Oklahoma and at this rate it would take them forever to get to Mexico but they were in no rush.

It’s been five days since they left Kansas.

Sam kept an eye on the news and so far he hadn’t seen anything about the dead cop and honestly, no news was good news.

They walked around town, shoulders brushing up against each other when they walked together on the sidewalk. Dean pulled Sam into one of those crappy novelty tourist shops that sold all kinds of crap from China that cost barely a buck. Then they were ushered out by a little old lady with a broom when Dean got a little too crazy with trying on all the funky hats that they were selling.

Sam nearly curled in on himself laughing at the look of sheer terror that was on Dean’s face when the lady came after them.

That earned him a pretty hard hit to the shoulder but honestly it was worth it.

Lunch was pizza at ‘the best pizza shop around town’ according to some local named Joe (and Dean would have to admit, it was pretty good) then it was back out to walking around. When they made it to the end of the main street, they turned around and went back the other way, choosing to go back to the motel room.

There was a pool by the afternoon it was warm enough to swim even if the water was a little cool at first.

Sam couldn’t help but blush when Dean managed to pin him up against the side of the pool, water droplets sliding down his freckled skin and Sam remembered what happened the last time they went swimming. When it was dark and they were the only ones in the pool and they were breaking the law.

That was the most adventurous thing that Sam had ever down in his life but being around Dean, it made him want to get in trouble. It made him want to do things that were illegal and dangerous and so completely spontaneous that it couldn’t possibly be planned.

The sound of the old metal gate squeaking open made Dean push away from Sam and a boy around Sam’s age walked through the gate, throwing his stuff on one of the pool chairs before jumping into the water at the other edge of the pool, causing ripples to fade down to where Sam and Dean was.

Dean eventually got out when the pads of his fingers were starting to wrinkle but Sam wanted to stay in the water.

His skin was still heated from when Dean had pinned him and the water was the only thing keeping him from melting underneath the sun and Dean’s gaze.

The boy swam past Sam a couple of times until it got too awkward to be in the same space without speaking and he introduced himself to Sam. Sam introduced himself back and out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean leaning forward on the pool chair, watching the pair intently.

Sam smirked to himself because he had seen that look in Dean’s eye before. That fire behind his green eyes that told him that Dean was right on the verge of being jealous. Not that he had any reason to. I mean, the boy whose name was Nathan was good looking but he wasn’t anywhere near Dean and if Sam’s being a hundred percent honest with himself, his voice was a little too squeaky.

But Nathan was good company and he held a decent conversation and the poor kid flushed anytime Sam tried to flirt with him.

Dean huffed, crossing his arms across his chest as he watched, watched the way that Sam continued to get closer to the boy and he couldn’t keep the swelling of jealousy bubbling in his chest from expanding.

The final straw was when Sam sent Dean a small smirk and moved ever closer towards the boy. There was barely any room between them now.

“Sam!” Dean barked, climbing to his feet, arms still crossed across his chest. “It’s time to go. Now.”

Nathan jumped at the sound of Dean’s voice, almost like he was just noticing that Dean was there and then he looked back to Sam and the smile on that on his lips. In as sweet of a voice that Sam could manage he told Nathan that it was nice meeting him and thanked him for getting him laid tonight.

Sam left Nathan floating in the pool, eyes wide and scared.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Dean snapped when they got behind the closed door of their motel room and Sam, the little fucking tease that he was, striped out of his wet swimming trunks, the fabric hitting the ground with a loud plop.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Dean.” Sam said with as much faux innocent as he could muster and the growl that escaped Dean’s chest wasn’t even human.

That night Dean marked and clawed and bit at every inch of Sam’s body that we could get his mouth on and he made sure that Sam knew how he belonged too. He had Sam begging and squirming and pleading for Dean to just hurry up already, that he needed him. And Nathan made sure to stay away from room 27.

The shower was running when Dean woke up in the morning and he smiled to himself. He wasn’t going to deny it, his muscle were sore from claiming Sam last night and his back stung a little from where Sam’s sharp nails dug into the skin but he felt good. Really good.

He rolled over onto his side and faced the bathroom where the steady sound of water could have lulled him back to sleep if it wasn’t for the fact that he chuckled to himself. Sam was always the one to get up early in the morning. Back when he was still going back to school, he would often times wake before Dean did, taking a shower and gather all of his belongings like if he didn’t then he was going to be late for his classes (not like Dean would let him) and even now, when they had nowhere to be, he was still waking up too goddamn early.

That was something he was going to have to break when they got to Mexico.

Sleep. Sleep was good.

Dean yawned as he stretched, scratching absentmindedly at his stomach as he sat up on the bed. They would be on the road again today, growing ever closer to that final destination and while Dean loved the journey, he couldn’t wait to see the beach every morning he woke up. And he couldn’t wait to see how beautiful Sam would look underneath that Mexican sun.

The water shut off not too long after and then Sam opened the door, a puff of steam following him out into the room as he towel dried his hair.

“Good morning.” Dean smiled and Sam smiled back and you know what, sue Dean for being so goddamn cheesy but Sam’s smile seemed to light up the whole room.

“Morning.” Sam replied, settling down beside him, pulling his legs up onto the bed as he curled up next to Dean.

His hair was damp as he rested his head on Dean’s chest and when Dean inhaled, he could smell the generic motel shampoo that Sam had used.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” Dean muttered. “Gotta wash the blood from my shoulders, Edward Scissorhands.” Dean teased and Sam gasped as he jerked away from Dean, moving to where he could get a look at Dean’s shoulders. Sure enough, thin lines ran along the expanse of Dean’s back.

“Shit.” Sam said, running a finger down one of the lines. “I did that?”

“Last night, yep. And I’m gonna wear them with pride.”

Sam settled back down onto the bed and rested his head back against Dean’s chest despite the fact that Dean said that he was going to go take a shower. In fact, several moments passed and Dean made no move towards the bathroom. There was no need to. He had all the time in the world to stay curled up next to Sam. It was only the sixth day of freedom and he was already drunk from it.

“Thought you were gonna take a shower.” Sam muttered but he stayed pressed up against Dean.

Seemed like Dean was the only one drunk from each other.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Dean finally managed to pull himself from Sam who still seemed reluctant to leave the warmth of Dean’s body but Dean needed to have a shower. There was a difference between living on the road and smelling like you lived on the road.

Sam had turned the TV on while Dean was in the shower. He could hear the garbled noise of people talking through the thin bathroom walls. 

He washed the previous night from his skin.

“Hey, Sam. I was thinking…” Dean started as he stepped out of the bathroom but his sentence was sucked out of his lungs when he saw his face plastered to the small box TV screen.

Sam scrambled after the remote with the intent to change the channel but Dean barked at him to leave it.

It wasn’t the local news station. In fact it looked like the same channel that Dean got back at home which was odd in of itself, why exactly he would be getting Kansas news in Oklahoma but that was all white noise to him. Across the bottom of the screen, below his picture, it was captioned with  _ Dean Winchester wanted for questioning due to theory that he might be involved with the brutal killing of Junior Deputy William Smith.  _ Dean felt his stomach flip. They found the cop and they already suspected him.

Sam sat on the bed watching Dean’s reaction, waiting for the blow up that was about to happen.

But what really got Dean’s blood boiling was when the picture changed from himself to an interview done with Gordon. He was standing there with a microphone stuck up against his mouth, wearing that same damn fake expression of fear and sadness and disbelief that everyone came to believe.

“I always thought he would do something like this.” Gordon said into the camera. “I mean, we all knew that he was unstable, especially after he killed my sister but this…” A fake shake of the head, a fake tear. Fake this. Fake that. Sell it for the cameras. Make Dean the bad guy. “But he took my foster brother, touched him in ways that little boys shouldn’t be touched and when Mr. Smith tried to stop him, save Sam, Dean killed him.” Pause for dramatic effect and Dean could hardly hear anything. “Please, you all have to stop him before he hurts Sam too.”

Then silence. The screen went black and Sam dropped the remote back to the bed and that’s when everything inside of Dean snapped. That happy feeling inside his chest was gone.

He screamed, loud and animalistic and somehow his fist ended up in the dry wall, knuckles split and bleeding and he still felt like screaming, like breaking something.

Sam pulled himself to the middle of the bed and watched as Dean tore apart the room, the chair splintering into a million pieces when he broke it against the ground and when he stopped and stood in the middle of the room looking suddenly lost and scared, Sam crawled off the bed and walked towards Dean.

“You’ve gotta calm down, Dean.” Sam reasoned. “We can’t bring the manager in here.”

Dean’s chest heaved with heavy breaths . “I can’t, Sam. They found the police officer, they know, Sam. They know.” They knew it all. They knew about him and Sam and his father and every single other thing.

“No they don’t, Dean.” Sam was speaking so low, so soft, voice calm despite the fact that his heart was racing. “They don’t know anything other than the fact that some police officer died. You torched the car. They’re not gonna find you. They’re not gonna find us.”

“But you saw the news story!” Dean shouted, pointing towards the TV. “You saw, they want to arrest me.”

“What I saw was speculation. What I saw was a man who is so hellbent on revenge that he’ll say anything in front of a camera. They have no evidence. Questioning. That’s all they said. They wanted to question you.”

“But what if I fucked up, huh? What if something was left behind and they were able to trace it back to me. Sam, I’m a cop killer. You know what they do to cop killers?” Dean was nearly hyperventilating now. “And you. Fuck, Sam. I’ve put you in danger. They’ll… they’ll kill you too.”

“Dean…” Sam finally just closed the gap between the two of them, grabbing Dean by the shoulders. “They’re not going to find us. We’re alright. If they ask around town, all they’ll think is that we’re headed to California. We are going to be fine.”

But Dean wasn’t listening. He was off in his head, trying to figure out someway out of this, someway to protect Sam. Those voices were back, screaming loudly, teasing and taunting and telling Dean that he had gotten Sam killed.

“I’ll just say… I’ll just say that I kidnapped you.” Dean finally spoke, actually looking somewhat calmer. “Then they won’t do anything to you then. I’ll say that the cop pulled me over and you called for help and I killed the cop. Yeah. That’ll work.”

Sam was shaking his head. “Do you even hear yourself right now, Dean?”

“Yeah, I do, Sam.”

“Then why are you saying these things?”

“Because I’m trying to protect you! Sam, this wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to run away with me. So that’s what I’ll say. I’ll say that I kidnapped you and you’ll be fine.”

“And I just deny it, dumbass!” Sam nearly shouted back. His hands were shaking.

“Yeah well I’ll say that it’s Stockholm syndrome or whatever. Sam, I’m not dragging you down with me. If I get caught, you’re going to get off. They’ll believe me because I’m older and I’m crazy and I already killed my dad so why not. And you’ll… you’ll go reapply for Stanford and graduate and you’ll live your life and maybe, if it’s not too much to ask, you’ll show up to when they stick the needle in my arm. It’ll all work out.”

Sam didn’t mean too. He honestly didn’t but he felt so small with Dean saying these things and it just happened. The room seemed to vibrate after Sam slapped Dean and Dean stood there, eyes wide, a red welt already appearing on the side of his face.

“Listen to me, Dean.” Sam demanded. “They aren’t going to find us. They think that we’re going to California so they’ll search through California. And even if they do find us, it’s all hearsay. It’s Gordon’s word against yours. There is no evidence. None. Fire destroys evidence. Alright? We…” Sam gestured in between the two of them. “Are going to be okay but you can’t start tearing up hotel rooms.”

Dean swallowed thickly.

“So please, calm down. Trust me.” And now Sam was begging. “Please.”

And Dean stopped, his body completely freezing. His hands were still shaking and his mind was still reeling from the slap and he wanted to hit something else but he wasn’t sure if he could. He was shaking to bad. His breathing was ragged as he looked down at Sam, seeing him almost as if it was the first time and it felt like something reached out and clutched his heart.

Sam was standing in front of him with his eyes wide, arms held out in front of him as if he was trying to protect himself. As if he were protecting himself from Dean.

Sam looked so young, so small standing there. So vulnerable. Dean oftentimes forgot just how Sam was. He was just a kid, just barely graduated high school and yet here he was, helping Dean escape that town that he was stuck in. The reason why he’s here in this motel in the first place was all because of Sam. Sam planned it all out.

And if it weren’t for Sam, Dean wasn’t sure where he would be. Probably back at home working two jobs with his old man still alive, belittling him until the alcohol or liver cancer took him and then he would be alone. Either that or he would end up out on the street corner selling his body like the whore people often thinks he is, resulting to nothing just like all his teachers said. That was the future that Dean had if it weren’t for Sam.

But Sam, he wasn’t even eighteen. A kid. A fucking kid that was smart and beautiful and so young and Dean didn’t deserve him. 

“Fuck Sam,” Dean breathed running a shaky hand through his hair. “You need too… you need to leave me. I’m not…” He tried to swallow the words but they were caught in his throat. “I’m not good for you.”

He didn’t care about the plan, about the fact that the cops didn’t really know anything, this was about Sam now, about his safety, about protecting himself from Dean.

Sam shook his head, dropping his hands, noting the drastic change in Dean’s behavior. He stepped over the broken chair (noting that they weren’t going to be getting the deposit back on this room) and closed the distance between him and Dean. Dean watched him like a wounded animal, too frightened and hurt to move. 

“What are you talking about, Dean?” Sam asked when he had finally stopped in front of him. 

Dean couldn’t look into his eyes. He couldn’t see the mislaid trust and devotion that Sam had for him. Everyone was right. 

Dad was right. 

Brady was right. 

Everything that Dean touches, he breaks. He had taken this boy who was too innocent for his own good and he had broken him. He had broken him into tiny little pieces that would never be repaired. Never be fixed. 

Dean Winchester had fucked up Sam just like he fucked up everything else. 

“You shouldn’t be around me.” Dean finally whispered still not looking at Sam in the eyes.

And what was Sam supposed to say to that?

He couldn’t say anything. So instead he grabbed Dean’s face and pulled him in for a kiss because that’s the only thing that Dean seemed to understand. “You’re a fucking idiot, Dean Winchester.” Sam muttered against Dean’s lips.

They left a few minutes later, Sam was packing up their few belongings and stuffed them into the back of the Impala and climbed into the front seat where Dean had a hoodie pulled lower his eyes, slouched in the front seat behind the wheel.

Dean drove just under the speed limit, sticking to the side streets as he took them further south. His hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white, jaw clenched shut. He hadn’t said a word to Sam.

When Dean pulled off the side of the road, once again they’re surrounded by corn fields and he climbed out of the car, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

_ Stupid.  _ Dean thought.  _ Fucking stupid to not call him. _

He dialed the number, hands shaking as he brought the phone up to his ear. There was a chance that he wouldn’t pick up but this was his last hope. Bobby would know what to do. He always knew. Finally the line picked up.

Dean swallowed thickly before saying anything. “Hey, Bobby, its…”

But then Bobby cut him off. “Sorry, kid, you’ve got the wrong number.” And then Bobby just hung up. 

Dean stared at the phone in disbelief. This wasn’t happening right now. The one person, the only person that he knew could help just ditched him. He had just…

The phone started to ring in his hand and Dean didn’t even hesitate the answer it. Faintly in the background he could hear something running. Something that almost sounded like a chainsaw. 

“Sorry about that, kid.” Bobby said. “They’ve got the phones bugged, predicting that you would call.”

“Bobby…” Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “Bobby, I need your help.”

“Yeah, I figured as much. Is Sam okay?” Dean looked over the hood of the Impala where Sam was perched on the hood, watching him.

“Yeah, Sam’s fine.” He replied. “Bobby, I need to disappear.”

“Yeah, kid, I know. Listen…” There was a brief second of silence before Bobby started speaking again. “There’s this guy, Frank Devereaux. He can help you disappear. Paranoid son of a bitch but he’s got what you need.”

Another weight was lifted off his shoulders. 

“Okay, where is he? I’m in…”

“I don’t want to know.” Bobby cut him off before Dean could say. “The less I know, the better. He lives out in Texas. I’ll text you the address and then destroy the message when you get it. Tell him Bobby sent you, alright.”

“And that’ll make him want to help us?”

“Either that or he’ll shoot you on sight. But the guy owes me so…” Dean wondered what the hell Bobby did to get a man to owe him something like this.

There was another moment of silence. “How are you holding up, son?” Bobby asked, business aside and now he sounded like someone who cared.

“Just peachy.” Dean lied because that’s the only thing he could say. He couldn’t tell anyone that his insides were eating him alive. He couldn’t tell Bobby that he had nearly pushed Sam away, that he had... He couldn’t say any of that so he lied. “How’s Ellen doing? Does she really believe that I’m innocent?”

Sam turned back on the TV because he had to see what else they were saying, just briefly after Dean had calmed down the barest bit and Ellen was on the screen, a frown on her face as she announced to the world that Dean couldn’t possibly kill anyone. She believed that Dean was innocent.

“Son, she knows better than to say what she really feels. You know that. She’ll lie in front of the media to protect you but it don’t mean that she believes it.” A heartbeat went by. “She doesn’t blame you for it, just so you know. For killing your daddy, killing the cop. She knows that you did it for a reason and she suspects it has something to do with that boy. But she doesn’t blame you. She’s worried about you.”

Dean didn’t even want to know how he knew that John was dead.

“Well tell her she’s got nothing to worry about. This is gonna end one way or another.” He was either going to drop off the face of the earth or it was going to end bloody.

“That’s was she’s worried about.”

Dean took a deep breath, still looking at Sam. “Bobby, will you tell her thank you. For everything? I want her to know.”

“She already knows, son.”

“I know, just… okay.” Dean didn’t want to hang up. Not now, not ever but he needed too. Every second that he was on the phone with Bobby was another second that he could fuck things up even more. Get Bobby in trouble. Get Ellen in trouble. Get Sam killed. “Bobby… thank you… for being there for me.”  _ Thank you for giving me a job when no one else would. Thank you for being the father I never really had. Thank you for still covering my ass when I did something that I shouldn’t have done. Thank you.  _

“Just keep your nose clean until you get to Franks, you hear? I better not see you on the news in some breaking story.”

Dean smiled briefly and then they both hung up. Dean looked down at the phone, waiting for the text message and he wrote down the address that Bobby sent him and then crushed his phone against the pavement before throwing it out into the field just as Bobby was probably smashing his cell to pieces ready to keep playing the oblivious surrogate dad.

“So… where we heading?” Sam asked, hopping off the hood.

“Texas.” Dean said. “And then Mexico.”

Frank would be the answer to all his problems. He just had to hope that they would get there safe before something else went wrong.


	12. Chapter 12

Dean felt better about stopping in the smaller town. Usually the daily church gossip got passed around quickly but anything else got there slow. But still, even with the comfort of the fact that they probably weren’t going to be discovered, Dean barely stopped. He kept driving, stayed awake, cursed anytime he passed a cop and wished that he would just be in Mexico already.

But it was sunny outside and Dean hadn’t seen a cop for a couple of hours and they’re still probably a day’s drive from Frank’s (because he’s not fucking going over the speed limits and travel goes a hell of a lot slower when you’re not on the main interstate) and there’s this cute little diner that Dean passed and he’s hungry and honestly he just feels good.

Sam was a little more than apprehensive when Dean suddenly pulled up in front of the diner, noting the smile that was on his face.

“What are we doing here, Dean?” Sam asked, getting out of the car.

“Pie.” Dean said with a childlike smile, pointing towards the front window, as if that explained everything.

It didn’t.

It was a seat yourself kind of place and Dean picked them a booth, pulling out a menu as soon as he sat down. Sam sat down on the other side of the booth, careful as he looked at Dean’s face. There wasn’t any paranoia on his face. None, whatsoever, like the last couple of days didn’t just happen and that Dean didn’t almost want to shave his head cause he thought it would be harder for the cops to spot him.

He feels sick.

“Um… Dean. I’ll be right back.” Sam said after a moment. His hands felt clammy and Dean looked up at him from over the top of the menu.

“Alright but if you’re not here by the time the waitress comes around, I’m ordering for you.” And with that he buried himself back into the pie selection.

Sam nodded to no one in particular and turned to the direction of the bathroom. He peed, washed his hands and then stood in front of the mirror, staring at the weary reflection that stared back at him. He looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in weeks and it was partly true. Sleeping in the Impala wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world.

But he was worried. Worried for Dean and the way that he was suddenly acting. The mood swings, the ups and downs, Sam hoped that when they got across the border all of that would be gone and he could have the Dean that he had before everything had happened.

When Sam turned the corner to go back and sit down, he feels sick all over again.

Dean’s sitting at the booth, one arm thrown over the back of it and there’s three girls sitting there with him, looking at him that he just hung the moon and the worse thing is, Dean is looking right back at them with that same damn look.

Dean greeted him all the same when Sam returned to the table, said that he went ahead and ordered and Sam mumbled that was fine as the girl that was sitting on his side of the booth moved so Sam could slide back into his seat.

Sam doesn’t feel like talking and whenever Dean addressed him, Sam completely ignored him because he can’t comprehend any of this.

He was gone for five minutes, tops and already Dean had girls swarming around him like flies to honey and instead of turning them away, he invited them to stay. After running for days Dean was surrounding himself around people.

None of it felt right.

“I wanna go, Dean.” Sam finally just whined. He honest to god whined sounding so much more like a child than the practical adult he was. 

That seemed to get the attention of the three girls that had sat down beside them, they all turned, finally noticing Sam for the first time that afternoon. Nevermind the fact that they all stared at him when he sat down.

“Oh my gosh, Dean!” The girl sitting right next to Dean squealed. “You’re baby brother is so cute!”

“Oh my gosh, I know!” The one sitting next to him said in agreement, reaching out to pinch Sam on the cheek. He moved as far away as he could in the small booth. 

“He’s a handful.” Dean replied back with a chuckle and Sam felt his stomach drop through the floor. 

That wasn’t at all the response that he thought that Dean was going to say. He didn’t deny the fact that they weren’t brothers, that they were actually in a relationship. He just smiled and agreed with them. 

The girl next to sam squealed again, a sound that echoed around in Sam’s head. He felt trapped. He felt trapped in this booth sitting next to a girl that smelled too sweet. It was choking him, the smell filling his throat, cutting off his air supply.

“I wanna go, Dean.” Sam said again, this time his voice much much smaller than it was and Dean made no move to stand up. He sat there across the booth with an arm thrown over that blonde looking completely carefree. Sam wanted to throw up. 

“Relax, Sammy.” He said through a smile. “It’s all good.”

“Yeah, Sammy…” The girl on the very end of the booth agreed and if Sam had been looking hard enough at Dean, he would have seen the tick of his jaw at the use of his nickname but Sam didn’t see it. “Just relax. Just trying to invite your brother to a party tomorrow. You’re more than welcome to come too. I’m sure they’ll be some girls there your age.”

And that was it for Sam. He couldn’t sit there and let these girls patronize him like he was some child. He needed to leave. He needed to get away from their toxic smiles and sickeningly sweet smell. He needed to get away. 

“Let me out.” Sam demanded turning towards the girl that was beside him. The mood at the table drastically changed and yet the girl didn’t move. She stared at him like he was speaking French or something. “Let me out!” He repeated and this time she got the hint and started to move. 

Only it wasn’t fast enough. He didn’t care that he basically shoved her out of the booth, her heels clicking on the floor as she tried to keep her balance. 

If Dean wanted to stay here and flirt with them then he could but he wasn’t going to sit there and let dean have the satisfaction of calling sam his little baby brother. One that needed to be coddled with sweet words and soft touches. 

The girl scoffed, brushing her hands off on her denim skirt, watching Sam as he left the restaurant. 

“What’s his problem?” She asked, sitting back down and grabbed a fry that the waitress brought for them to munch on while they waited for their food, looking at it before taking a bite of it. 

But whatever happy mood that Dean was in completely disappeared. He apologized briefly to the girl for Sam’s behavior before excusing himself from the table to chase after the kid. 

“Sam!” He called and Sam was already out the door. “Sam… shit Sam, just stop okay.” Dean said as he grabbed a hold of Sam’s arm. 

Sam turned around, fist flying like he wanted to punch Dean. 

Dean easily caught his wrist. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” Sam spit, snatching his hand away from Dean and Dean took a small step back, confused. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t give me that crap, Dean! What’s going on with you? I mean, one second you’re paranoid as hell, dragging me all across the godforsaken United States, barely stopping to rest, always looking over your fucking shoulder for something that’s not even there and then the next you’re completely fine, passing me off as some kid that’s your brother who’s more of a burden to bare than your fucking boyfriend!” Sam was yelling, his face red but he didn’t care. “If you don’t want to be with me, then that’s fine but don’t fucking string me along with this idea that we’re something.”

“I’m not stringing you along.” Dean answered and the fact that Dean wasn’t yelling only infuriated Sam more. He wanted a fight. He wanted a fight that started with raised words and ended with fist and blood and pain. At least then that would feel real. At least that wouldn’t feel like this. “I’m not stringing you along, Sam. It’s just, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes not believing that Dean was going to play that card. 

“I mean it, Sam! Listen to me, you don’t know those girls like I do. They’re all the same. Somewhere in that restaurant their boyfriends sit, watching the whole thing just waiting for us to slip up to where they could put their fist through our face. If those girls found out what we are, that we’re in a relationship, together, they would have run back to their boyfriends, the words leaving their mouths before they ever sat down and their boyfriends would take care of us. Stomp us into the ground until we couldn’t move. I’ve seen it happen before, Sam, and I wasn’t about to let it happen to you!”

Now Dean was yelling but there wasn’t fury or anger in his voice. He was yelling because he was concerned, because he was honest to God scared of what might happen to Sam. There was that fear in his eyes that kept them driving all night, bright and shining, taking hold of everything in his body. And all at once Sam couldn’t quite remember why he was angry. 

“And I don’t know… I just thought that maybe you would have liked to go to a party. You know, a real one. Not one thrown in some hick town. You said that you’ve never been to one and I just thought maybe we could go to one before we go to Mexico but...” Dean trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s whatever. You wanna go, we can go. Where do you wanna go?”

It was all up to Sam now. “Anywhere.” He breathed after a long second. “Just take me away from here.”

And so Dean did.

A little while later, a couple of small towns just another mile of road underneath the wheels of the Impala, Dean pulled off into another small town fit with another one of those diners that said it served the best pie all across the state of Texas (they crossed the border a little while ago).

It’s late and the diner is one of those little twenty-four seven places with stressed out waitresses and road weary truck drivers.

The sign in the front says to seat yourself just like the last diner and they’re glad for it. Dean picked one of the back booths in the back of the diner. He smirked to himself when he saw that there was a young couple sitting right in front of them. They’re the kind of couple that look rigid and uptight, the kind of couple that don’t look like they visit this kind of place often but they heard about the pie and as Texans they have to try it just once.

It’s the perfect booth for Dean.

The guy, some dude who’s probably going to go bald before forty eyed Dean as he looked Dean up and down and then turned his gaze towards Sam, the frown on his face deepening. He leaned over towards the girl and whispered something in her ear that caused her to frown too and when a couple of moments passed, she glanced over at them, the frown moving up towards her eyes.

Dean slid into the booth first, settling himself against the wall and angling his body to where Sam could slid up right next to him. Sam shot him a quick look, glancing over at the couple with a question on his face but Dean only smiles and suddenly Sam seems to understand everything perfectly. Sam returned the smile.

Dean rested his arm along the back of the armrest as Sam climbed into the booth and along the seat until he settled himself right on top of Dean’s lap.

Dean let out a surprised sound, not expecting Sam to take it that far but frankly he’s not complaining. They’re facing the couple and suddenly the couple seems all too interested in their meal that they previously seemed disinterested in, eating without saying a word.

Their server, a young woman who looked like she was still barely in college and stressed showed up a few moments later and handed them the menus. She looked at them for a second and started to say something about how patrons weren’t allowed to sit in the laps of other patrons unless they were children when she locked her jaw shut at the look that Dean sent her way. Instead she smiled, pulling out the little rectangle notepad, pen ready.

“So… what can I get y’all?” She asked, her voice dripping with a heavy Texan accent.

“I’ll take a chocolate milkshake.” Sam said, handing the girl back the menu. “With whipped cream and a cherry please.” He added with his best innocent smile that he could muster.

She nodded, scribbling it down before turning to look at Dean. “Do you want one too, sir?”

Dean looked over the menu like he was actually considering getting something before he handed the menu back to her and shook his head. “Naw, we’ll take just the one.”

The girl looked between the two of them, her eyes wide before she cleared her throat, said that it would be out in a moment and then proceeded to turn on her heel back towards the kitchen. When Dean straightened his gaze back to in front of him he couldn’t keep from smiling when he saw that the couple was looking at them again.

They flushed bright red when they realized that they were being really fucking obvious and quickly turned back to their nearly finished meal. Sam is the one who actually laughs, a bubble of giddy nothingness exploding through his chest.

Maybe it’s the fact that they’re so close to the border or that maybe it’s because this is truly the first time that Dean is being affectionate towards him in public, is letting Sam do this, sit on top of him, claim him but there’s something that makes Sam feel like he’s floating and he can’t help it.

He laced his arm around the back of Dean’s neck and rested his forehead against his, their noses barely touching. Dean had his hand resting just below Sam’s knee which he slowly started to move up, thumb rubbing small circles into his thigh.

“What’s you think they do if you fucked me on top of this table?” Sam purred against Dean’s neck and Dean nearly choked because  _ fuck kid, you can’t just fucking say that without warning a man first _ .

Dean swallowed around the lump that suddenly formed in his throat and pushed away the thought of how Sam would look spread out along the table.

“Probably watch until we finished. They’ve never seen anything as hot as my boy with a dick in him.” Dean replied back, turning the dirty talk up to nearly a hundred. If Sam wanted to play this game, then they would play. “Couldn’t keep their hands off themselves.” He whispered as he leaned closer towards Sam, nearly pushing Sam back against the edge of the table, bending him in half. “When they hear the noises you make...” Sam closed his eyes as Dean’s continued. “Whimpering and moaning my name...” Dean’s lips hovered just above Sam’s. “They’d sit there and watch. Then they’d call the cops,” Dean laughed suddenly and Sam smiled up at him.

Their server returns with their milkshake topped with two straws and one cherry. Sam picked it up and brought one of the straws to his lips.

“Mmm.” he hummed around the red plastic. “It’s really good, try some. Not as good as Ellen’s but good.” The woman looked over as Sam held the straw out for Dean.

“Delicious.” Dean agreed, looking at Sam and licked his lips.

Sam set the glass down and glanced at the woman who was now making no point to hide her distaste. He picked the cherry off the top of the whipped cream and popped the entire thing into his mouth.

She turned toward the man and said something under her breath as she kicked his leg. He said something back and then turned to look at them.

Sam stared back at them as he laid his hand on Dean’s cheek, pulling him toward his lips. He kissed Dean hard, dipping his tongue into his mouth as Dean kissed back. They make a point to be as obnoxious about it as they can, moaning loudly, breathing heavy. Dean pushed his hands up through Sam’s hair and held tight. Sam bit onto Dean’s bottom lip and pulled as he leans back, breaking the kiss. Keeping his eyes on the couple the whole time.

Dean reached up and pulls the cherry stem from his mouth and grinned at them.

The woman made a disgusted noise and stood up, throwing her napkin on the table. The man shoved his empty plate away from him and followed her to the register.

“Got the whole section to ourselves now,” Dean said with a smirk and took another sip.

It’s not shortly after the couple leaves the they finish up the milkshake and Dean left a couple of twenties on the table and walked out of the diner, their waitress hovering in the corner, not sure how she felt about seeing them walk out together, one of Dean’s arm over Sam’s shoulder and one of Sam’s hands in Dean’s back pocket.

They found out when they looked at the map, that where Frank lived it was only twelve miles from the border which meant that a short hop, skip and jump and they would be away from all the worries that followed them from Kansas.

That made Dean giddy. But there’s still that lingering thought in the back of his head that things could go wrong very quickly.

They didn’t stay around public areas for long, not sure what information got out to what places in the United States and frankly Dean didn’t want to push his luck but even the ever present threat of being discovered couldn’t keep him away from the diners. With that being said though, they stayed on the fringe of society.

Driving through the midwest, there usually wasn’t much to see, nor was there much to do other than to drive but it was great country for bikers and people like them to travel through. People who were unattached to anything, just living day by day.

Most of the guys were good company.

Dean would find them by a river, sitting around a bonfire. It didn’t really matter who you were when you were with these people and it didn’t matter what you did. Everyone was family, bonded together by the freedom that the road presented them.

Lukewarm beer would be passed around and crude jokes were said. Laughs were shared and giggles erupted from the group. It was nice to hang around those people for a couple of hours, not worrying about anything because the one good thing about being on the road was that you were pretty much oblivious to what was happening in the world around you for other than the stuff that was shown on the small tv’s hidden in the corner of the roadside diners.

They usually don’t stick around long enough for things to get fucked. The moment that someone started looking at Dean a little too hard for a little too longer, Dean would bid everyone a good night, thank them for the beer and then he and Sam would be back out on the road, looking for a good place to pull off for the night to sleep. Or if someone took a particular interest in Sam, Dean usually ended it before it got too out of hand.

But Dean’s holding his broken beer bottle that was now covered in blood, hand held out in front of him, high over his head and Sam is the scaredest that he’s been since he’s met Dean.

It’s bad. It’s really bad.

Sam started this little game that started back after the whole pool incident and with Nathan where he would tease Dean relentlessly. When they would stop at one of the bonfires, Sam would find someone to make friends with and ultimately things would always escalate to the point where Dean would drag him away and mark his body with his fingerprints and his mouth and his body.

It was something that Sam craved. He craved Dean on him and in him and around him all the time and this was usually the best way to get him to do that.

The night didn’t start out any different than any other night had. There would be a couple of pick-ups and a whole lot of bikes and everyone would treat each other to a beer, talk and not worry about anything.

The moment that they arrived, they had eyes on them. Kinda hard not to notice the beautiful, black muscle car pull up next to the rusted chrome and two wheels but there was one guy in particular that seemed to take interest in Sam.

And Sam, with his teenage confidence that only grew stronger knowing that Dean was somewhere in the crowd watching him, walked over to the guy with the pick up and plopped himself down next to the guy on the edge of the tailgate, his legs swinging lazily as they shared a beer back and forth.

Dean didn’t like it. In fact he hated it. He hated watching Sam talk and flirt with other guys and he hated the way that he got so goddamn jealous about it. Usually it’ll take Dean four or five beers before he’s aggravated enough to end Sam’s little fun and leave. Tonight, Dean’s already started his fifth beer, the alcohol definitely making his mind a little fuzzy around the edges, leaning up against the side of the Impala, watching the way that Sam seemed to glow in the moonlight.

But he was going to let the kid have his fun. They would see Frank in the morning and he would help them disappear and then they would cross the border with whatever money they still had stashed in the Impala and then they would have the rest of their lives to spend with each other.

Sam seemed to be swaying a little more. Dean wasn’t sure how many beers he’s had but it’s probably more than enough if Sam’s hooded eyes are anything to go by. The kid’s a lightweight, probably hadn’t had a sip of alcohol before he met Dean and something goes through Dean’s chest at  _ that  _ thought. That he’s been the one that’s changed Sam so much, made him into the little monster that he is now.

There’s fire in Dean’s blood, set aflame from seeing what’s his going to spend time with another person but then it grows out of control when the guy leaned closer to Sam, running a hand up the inside of Sam’s thigh. No one that they’ve ever met or hung out with in the past few days ever touched Sam. No one. Flirted yes, but touched. Those marks on Sam’s neck made it pretty damn clear that Sam was off limits.

_ You may look but you cannot touch. _

They’re on the edge of the circle, darkness covering them and no one sees when Sam pushed the guys hand off of him and then the way that the guy grabbed at Sam’s wrists, wrapping them all the way around his bony arms and pinned him to the bed of the truck. Sam struggled underneath the guy as he shifted his weight to keep Sam pressed against the bed of the truck, unable to move.

Dean’s not sure how he got from the Impala to the guy and pulled him off of Sam. He’s not even really sure how the beer bottle broke in the first place, if it was because he broke it before he got to the guy or if he broke it against the guy’s skull but all does know is the fact that the guy is laying on the ground, blood pooling around his head, turning the dark ground even darker.

There’s a dull throbbing on the side of Dean’s face where he’s sure that the guy managed to punch him before Dean cut his face open with the bottle. He didn’t even feel the punch.

Everything around them got so damn quiet so damn quick that Dean could almost hear Sam’s heart jackrabbit behind that skinny chest of his. No one moved, no one dared to make a sound. They all stood, frozen, watching the scene unfold in front of them.

Dean hears screaming and it isn’t until later that he realized that it was his own voice cracking through night air. Sam is curled in on himself on the edge of the truck, watching Dean.

The firelight danced around Dean’s skin, making the shadows on his face jump as the muscles in his jaw twitched.

He’s not even sure what he’s yelling or even really aware that he’s kicking the guy, screaming out how he’ll send the guy to the worse parts of hell for even thinking about touching  _ his boy  _ like that. Everyone around them is too stunned to do anything, torn between helping the guy getting beat within an inch of his life and letting Dean do what he pleased because there was a certain level of respect that everyone was treated with in the group.

When someone pushed you away, you stop, no matter how much you want it. No matter how pretty you think they are.

It’s not until the guy had stopped moving completely and Dean is still kicking him in the stomach that Sam uncurled from his position, saying the first words of the night.

“Dean, stop.” He said, moving closer towards Dean but Dean didn’t stop. It’s almost like he can’t. “Dean, please, don’t kill him.” Sam begged, voice a little louder, a little stronger this time.

This isn’t good and Sam knows. The guy, if he survives the night is going to call the police and then Dean’s going to be wanted for aggravated assault which will undoubtedly get worse because of the warrant that’s already out there for the cop. And then it won’t take much for a jury to convict him because Dean was a nobody with a deadbeat dad and a dead mom who was more trouble than he’s worth.

Dean doesn’t hear a word that Sam said, blood rushing past his ears,  _ hurt maim kill _ the only thing that he can think of and when he felt a hand close around his elbow and turned around, staring at Sam straight through and there’s hellfire in Dean’s eyes and then there a white hot pain searing through the side of Sam’s face and for a moment, nothing around them exist except for Dean’s fist.

Sam stumbled to the ground, ears ringing from the force of the punch and Sam can’t quite see anything straight. There’s something warm and wet pouring from his nose and when his vision cleared, red painted his fingers.

Dean looked down at Sam, eyes wide, whole body pale and he’s suddenly so very cold.

“Sam.” Dean whispered through the dark and reached for the boy but Sam recoiled away from Dean’s touch, crawling through the dirt to get as far away as possible. He managed to climb to his feet and then he’s running. Running as fast as his legs will carry him deep into the dark.

Dean managed to grab a little bit of Sam’s shirt but the fabric slipped through his fingers.

Dean is yelling Sam’s name and Sam is running towards nothing, face stinging, the ghost of Dean’s fist still there. Sam doesn’t understand what he did. In that split moment that Dean looked at him, it was like Dean was mad at  _ him _ and Sam… a sob racked his body.

When Sam’s legs can’t carry him anymore, he collapsed to the ground, leaning up against one of the few trees that were scattered around. His hand is curled around his cheek, trying to protect himself from anything else.

It’s takes seconds, seconds for Dean to run after Sam and to catch up to him, footsteps falling heavy against the earth and Sam can’t see anything through the tears in his eyes.

“Sammy.” Dean muttered, dropping to his knees in front of Sam, pushing Sam’s legs apart and moved as far in between them as he could. Sam grabbed a hold of the front of Dean’s shirt, one hand pulling him closer as the other pushed Dean away. Dean reached up, fingers brushing over the bruise already starting to bruise and it feels like someone ripped his chest open. Sam can hardly look at him, still crying, small whimpers falling past his bleeding lips and Dean is sure that this is what death feels like. “I’m so sorry, Sammy. I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” Dean repeated like it was a mantra, holding Sam against him.

The he’s kissing Sam because words never do what he wants them to do. He’s kissing him through the spit and the tears and the blood and Dean’s careful to be gentle with Sam because the last thing that he wanted to do was hurt Sam anymore than he already was.

“He was touching you.” Dean said. “And you were struggling and I wasn’t thinking and…” Dean’s hardly breathing through the talking and the kissing. “I would never hurt you, Sammy. Couldn’t hurt you.” His lips moved over the split skin on Sam’s cheek. “Never wanna hurt you again. Love you so much, Sammy. Love you more than anything.” Now Sam’s kissing him back, hard and wanting and the pain only makes it better. “More than anything.”

It’s Sam that pulled away first, eyes still wet with tears but he stopped crying and yet it looked like Dean was about to.

His beautiful green eyes shone in the moonlight with unshed tears.

“I love you.” Sam said quietly as he brushed his thumb along Dean’s bottom lip, over the blood that he’s stained Dean with. Dean is shaking underneath his touch. “It’s okay, Dean. It’s okay.”

When they head back to the circle, everyone makes sure to stay clear of Dean and they hardly look at Sam and the guy that dared to touch Sam is at least sitting up now, leaning against the side of his truck but there’s no one around him. They don’t say anything as they left, blood still coating their lips.

That night Dean rented a motel room instead of spending the night in the Impala and he makes love to Sam on the creaky motel bed, holding Sam in his lap, rocking into him and a purple bruise fanned out across his face in the shape of Dean’s fist.

The curtains to the room did very little to keep the sun from filtering in through the windows. Dean groaned as he tried to stretch out but was stopped by the way that Sam was clinging to him, mouth partly slightly as he snored, head buried in the crook of Dean’s shoulder. Dean hated to wake him, to move him when he seemed so peaceful, so at ease. It had been a while since he’s seen  _ that _ but they needed to get to Mexico.

There was something tense in the air when they finally managed to get up and despite the fact that they danced silently around each other, gathering all the scattered clothes, Dean couldn’t shake the feeling.

He cursed silently when he got into the Impala and saw that the tank was nearly empty. Sam seemed apprehensive when they pulled up in one of those ‘pay inside’ gas stations but Dean sent him a reassuring smile, turned off the car and told Sam to go pick out some candy or something for breakfast. Kid needed it.

They kissed briefly across the seat before they both got out.

There was an older man sitting behind the register, watching the store front with a bored expression on his face and yet Dean some how had the impression that he wouldn’t want to give up this job for anything else.

“Morning.” Dean smiled as he walked up to him and Sam went his way to browse the aisles for something to eat. “Uh… give me sixty bucks on pump two, please.”

The guy looked at Dean for what seemed like to be a second too long before nodding and punching in the number on the old register.

“That all?” His voice was scratchy, old.

“Yeah, that and whatever Sam wants.” Dean replied, turning around to lean up against the counter, watching the top of Sam’s head bob above the top of the shelves as he decided on his poison for the morning.

The smile that was on his face faded when he heard the pump of a shotgun and then felt the barrel press in between the middle of his shoulder blades. Dean froze.

“Listen, I don’t want any trouble.” The old man said as Dean turned around with his hands held up like he was surrendering. “But your face… and that boys face has been plastered all over the news for the last week. I called the cops when you first pulled up, okay.” He explained. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.” Dean glanced at the barrel of the shotgun, weighing his chances of grabbing it out of the man’s hands before the man could get off a shot. “Don’t be stupid, boy.” He shook Dean out of his thoughts. “I really don’t want to shoot you.”

Dean was about to say something else, try to talk his way out of this when Sam’s old converse squeaked along the linoleum floor, coming to a stop at the end of the aisle. The man was at least smart enough to not point the gun at Sam.

“Dean…?” Sam asked, his voice hanging in the air.

Dean turned to look at Sam. He was clutching a bag of gummi bears, eyes wide as he looked between the gun and Dean.

“Heya, Sammy.” Dean greeted, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. This was going to be it. He could feel it in his gut, the way that something just wasn’t settling right. “It’s alright. It’s going to be alright.”

Lies poured from his lips and Sam knew it.

He dropped the gummi bears and suddenly ran over to Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean as he hugged him, head buried in his side. Almost immediately he could feel wet tears soaking through his shirt.

“This isn’t the end, is it?” Sam asked, he begged and Dean couldn’t answer that.

But it was the lack of answer that was all the answer that Sam needed.

The sound that passed through Sam’s mouth almost wasn’t human and all at once Sam understood what the ending was going to be, just as Dean did.

They stood there, arms wrapped around each other, turned to face the windows with the gun pointed at Dean and waited, just waited for the cops to show up.

It didn’t take long and Dean’s heart jumped, longing for just one more beat.

“If you know what’s best for you son you would just walk out there and let them take you. You have a chance at a fair trial and maybe this might turn out right for you.” The old man said, voice pinched, the shotgun still pointed in the middle of Dean’s back and Dean scoffed looking out at the police cars that seemed to roll up out of nowhere.

“There’s no such thing as a fair trial for a cop killer, old man.” Dean spit.

Sam tensed next to him and then suddenly he reached out and grabbed Dean by the face and pulled him down for another kiss, mouth wide and desperate, wanting to get as much of Dean as he could.

“I love you.” Sam muttered against Dean’s lips, reluctant to pull away.

“I know.” Dean replied.

The store was surrounded, police cars with their doors wide open and the officers hiding behind them, their guns poised on the two lovers. 

Dean looked back at Sam one final time, giving him a small smile.

And Sam desperately wanted to reach out and grab a hold of his hand, feel him before they were torn apart. 

"Together?" Dean asked. 

"Together." Sam agreed, nodding his head once. 

Dean wrapped his arm around Sam’s small body, around his waist and pulled him in for a kiss before he turned to face the firing squad outside, stepping outside, squinting through the hot Texan sun.

A single black bird cawed overhead before the air was filled with the sound of gunfire. 

And when the smoke cleared, there were two boys bleeding out on the burning asphalt, one hand outstretched for the other as if they were trying to reach each other, all twelve miles from the border.


End file.
